


Breaking all the Rules

by LadyLoec



Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 90000 words all posted at once y'all, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst and Porn, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bonnie Bennett-centric, British English, Complete, Cunnilingus, Escort Service, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Frottage, Human Damon Salvatore, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Just a smidge of M/M towards the end, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Canon Relationship, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prostitution, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sassy Damon Salvatore, Sex, Sex Work, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Stripping, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Diaries References, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 89,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoec/pseuds/LadyLoec
Summary: It’s not like Bonnie objected to people paying for sex – it’s a free country, after all – but it’s not something she’d ever considered doing for herself, even in her loneliest moments. That is, until temptation incarnate walked into her life and made her question everything.
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett & Caroline Forbes, Bonnie Bennett & Caroline Forbes & Elena Gilbert, Bonnie Bennett & Elena Gilbert, Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore, Damon Salvatore & Lorenzo "Enzo" St. John, Katherine Pierce & Damon Salvatore, Klaus Mikaelson & Damon Salvatore
Comments: 45
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you who have read my other stuff and been patiently waiting for me to put out something else, I’m so sorry for the radio silence. As an apology, have 100-odd A4 pages of porn with plot that has taken me far longer than it had any right to (but your girl doesn’t publish unfinished fics).
> 
> Normally, I’m not a fan of all human AU’s (the fangs are half the fun, right?) but holy hell has this thing grown legs. There is a lot of smut (you expected what else from an escort fic?) – a LOT – but also a surprising amount of plot, and even some actual angst and feelings and stuff. Even if all human isn't normally your thing, give it a whirl. Hope you like it. Feed me comments and I might even finish some of the 5 other plot bunnies that spawned while writing this.

Bonnie sat at the table and tried through sheer force of will to disappear into the wallpaper. She was mortified to be in a place like this, and wanted the plush drapes around the booth to swallow her up. She brought her head up from her laptop (where she was pretending to be engrossed in her work, but in reality was too on edge to think about anything much at all) and glanced at the clock - 3 minutes down, 57 to go. She could have sworn time was actually going _backwards_ , and she wondered if Indigo existed in a realm outside the laws of physics as well as morals. Though it billed itself as an exclusive 'purveyor of pleasure', the crystal glasses, Armani-clad bar staff, and designer decor couldn't change what the place was in Bonnie's eyes:  
A whorehouse.  
An expensive one, perhaps, but a whorehouse nonetheless. Inwardly, she cursed Elena and Caroline: If it wasn't for her best friends, Bonnie would never have set foot within a mile of here.

Elena had just gone through a rough divorce following a sexually dissatisfying marriage. When she had confided in her girlfriends that she was desperate to experience what her husband had never been able to give her, Caroline had suggested she spend some of her divorce settlement on a professional, rather than leaving it to chance by picking up a guy in a bar who would probably turn out to be just as disappointing. Bonnie had been shocked at the idea at first, but reasoned that her friend deserved to get everything she hoped for, and tentatively agreed when Caroline insisted she should only have the best. Unfortunately, what Bonnie had failed to account for was that 'the best' meant Indigo: Elite and exclusive, with membership requirements that Elena didn't meet... But Bonnie did. The controlling stake in the Fortune 500 company she had inherited when her father had passed away meant that she had the kind of social credence that qualified for membership, and enabled her to bring a guest to the club (once they had been vetted). They had called ahead to schedule her appointment, and seemed a little surprised when Bonnie hadn't wanted to book anyone for herself, but had reassured her that 'there would always be a choice selection available should she change her mind' (ew). Bonnie decided somewhere between that phonecall and the extensive battery of medical testing that Elena owed her her firstborn after this. So she was thankful there were now only - she glanced at the clock again - 56 and a half (really?!) minutes left before she could put this whole thing behind her.

It was then she noticed the man looking over at her from the bar stool under the clock. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. The kind of beautiful that almost made you want to look away, in case it might somehow blind you - like an eclipse. In spite of his immaculate designer suit (which clung to his toned frame in all the right places), he looked slightly disheveled (albeit in a way that was definitely intentional), which was somewhat out of place in the five-star surrounding. He had a tumbler of amber liquid (scotch or bourbon, maybe) draped haphazardly from his long elegant fingers, and his black hair had that look like he had just tumbled out of bed, and not alone. His top button wasn't done up and his tie was lopsided. Somehow the whole aesthetic combined to enhance rather than diminish his attractiveness. His eyes, though, were what had drawn her attention. They were a captivating icy blue that almost looked photoshopped, and seemed to brim with sexual promise - like there was no way you weren't leaving thoroughly exhausted and satisfied. There was no way this guy was a patron, he had to be one of the escorts... And he had obviously seen her staring as a devilishly handsome smirk took over his features and he drained his glass and rose from his seat, making for her booth.

 _Oh no..._  
This was not blending into the background. This was the exact opposite of blending in. This was standing out. This was bad. This was...  
"Hi, I'm Dominic."  
_Shit._  
He took the seat next to her without asking, even though the seat opposite was vacant and more spacious. His scent - masculine, but clean - instantly filled her nostrils and she had to fight not to inhale deeply.  
"Bonnie."  
"Bennett? Ah, you're our new member. Popping your Indigo cherry tonight?"  
It took physical effort not to wince at the vulgarity.  
"Look, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I'm not here for... anything. I just came with a friend."  
A bartender immediately came over to refresh his glass.  
"I see. And which of our fine carnal artists took her fancy?"  
"I can't remember. British guy, European name?"  
"Klaus?" He looked vaguely surprised.  
"No that wasn't it. He had kind of a James Bond vibe."  
"Oh, Enzo. I was gonna say, Klaus would be an interesting choice for a first timer. He tends to take those clients with more _unusual_ proclivities if you get my drift." Bonnie gulped. She didn't want to consider what someone who sleeps with people for money might deem 'unusual'. "So, can I get you a drink while you wait? I'm sure we can think of _something_ fun to do to pass the time." His smirk was positively sinful, and she was starting to feel his body heat bleed through the suit fabric, causing her own body to warm in response.  
"Look, Dominic wasn't it? I don't want to waste your time, I'm just not interested."  
He leaned back slightly, his eyes running openly over her body, before leaning back in a touch closer than he had been before. She could feel his breath on her skin when he spoke. "Your pupils are blown, which happens when you're high or horny, and you don't strike me as the 'recreational use' type. Your mouth is open slightly and your breathing is shallow, which is what happens when someone scents pheromones from someone they are _very_ interested in. You keep fidgeting with your hands, which means you're either trying not to think about touching me, or to hide the fact you're trembling a little. And I don't think I have to explain the significance of your thighs spreading a little wider under the table. So you wanna run that one by me again? Once more, with feeling."  
Bonnie was grateful her dark skin masked most of her furious blush. He had read her every reaction like a book. She gritted her teeth to respond.  
"I don't pay for sex."  
"Ah, so we're a conscientious objector. Try thinking of it as paying for a really expensive short-stay hotel room with complimentary multiple orgasms instead of a mini-bar."  
She couldn't help the sceptical laugh that escaped her. "You're unbelievable."  
"Most women wait until the end of the evening to say that."  
She fought back another smile. "If that's the case, how come you're here prowling the bar instead of fully booked?"  
"Indigo has a strict rota: One night working the floor and taking walk-ins at the bar, one night doing house calls or specialty work like Klaus does, one night off, and one day a week where we can do any of the above. Keeps us from getting overworked, gives us the chance to find new regulars, and the patrons get to browse the whole range."  
"Then maybe you should find someone who's 'browsing' to lay your charm on instead of wasting your time with me?"  
"I'd say it's time well spent. Besides, it's a quiet night. If I move on to someone else, I'd only be leaving you to be approached by my co-workers. This way, you get sheltered from the pack until your friend's time is up, and I get the pleasure of your company, some scintillating conversation, and the chance to try and convince you to give in to that little voice in your head telling you I'm worth every cent."  
Bonnie rolled her eyes, but she closed up her laptop. It was clear 'Dominic' (she was sure that wasn't his real name) wasn't the type to give up.

They made small talk for a while, about anything and nothing. Her job, the club, the weather, the stock market. Dominic was surprisingly easy to talk to - good company and intelligent, though every now and again he would slide in the occasional sexual innuendo that made her blush and giggle in a manner most unbefitting a corporate mogul. He finished his drink and the bartender (Tyler - he was wearing a nametag) brought him another, but Bonnie declined, fearing alcohol would lead to some very poor decision making on her part.  
"Can I ask you something? How did you...When you looked at me before, how did you know that I was...?"  
"How did I know you were thinking about fucking me?" Bonnie shot him a look, hoping it would mask the little flutter her heart did in response to the way his mouth wrapped around the vulgarity. "A not insignificant part of what I do comes down to interpreting a woman's body and how it reacts to me. And I'm very good at my job." He took a healthy swig of his drink.  
"Okay, forgive the twenty questions, but how can you drink at the bar all night and still... y'know?" Her ex always had the wind knocked right out of his sails after a couple of drinks, but Dominic was throwing them back like water.  
"Well I suppose if you aren't interested in partaking of our extensive menu of delights, a peek behind the curtain won't do any harm." He gave her a knowing smile and offered her the glass. "It shouldn't come as much of a shock to you that not everything is quite what it seems at Indigo."  
She took the glass and smelled it, taking a sip when she couldn't detect the alcohol she had expected.  
"It's tea?"  
"Decaf. Industry secret. On a busy night, we can get bought dozens of drinks by well-meaning patrons. It would be rude to refuse, but a disaster if we couldn't perform, so Tyler over there," he gestured to the bartender "makes sure those on the clock get iced water instead of vodka, tea in place of bourbon, and so on."  
He took the glass back from her, fingers brushing hers gently and leaving her skin tingling as he did, and took another swig. His lips touched the glass softly and came away wet, and Bonnie realised she was staring a fraction of a second after he did. His smug smirk was equal parts infuriating and devastatingly sexy.  
"As long as we're being candid, I can practically hear your ovaries doing the Macarena. Are you _sure_ I can't tempt you to give those chastening morals of yours the slip for an hour or two?"  
Bonnie was pretty sure the snake in the garden of Eden could've taken pointers from him. It wasn't that she was a prude or one of those people that believed sex was sacred to a relationship - she'd had her share of casual encounters and one night stands (though as a rule she preferred to have an emotional connection with a guy before sleeping with him). If she had met him in any other bar or club, she wouldn't have hesitated to take him home. But this was a whole different ballgame. She didn't judge Elena for wanting to do it, especially not with her circumstances, but she couldn't bring herself to.  
"I'm sure." She sounded shaky even to herself. "Besides, I'm giving my friend a ride home, so I don't have time."  
"That's a shame. I really am good at my job."  
"Yeah, well so's my vibrator, only it's cheaper and knows when to shut up”. He chuckled, and she couldn't suppress a smile.

He bit his bottom lip thoughtfully, and that quickly overtook the 652 other facial expressions he had given her as the sexiest thing she had ever seen.  
"Your friend has what, 20 minutes left?"  
"18."  
"Give me 18 minutes in that private room over there to convince you of the merits of the world's oldest profession."  
"Dominic, I told you..."  
"You won't be paying for anything, so your halo remains in tact. Call it a no obligation free trial."  
"It's sex, not a cell phone plan."  
"Please, 18 minutes isn't sex, it's barely foreplay."  
She didn't say it out loud, but she was already so wet just from their proximity and flirtation that foreplay was hardly necessary.  
"Then what would we be doing?"  
"Well that would be your call. I could see how many orgasms I can wring out of you in 18...correction, 17 minutes. I reckon at least 2, maybe 3. Then again, there is something to be said for delayed gratification. I can get you so turned on that the friction from walking to your car and the vibration of the engine threaten to drive you crazy, so when you get home and finish the job it's the best orgasm you've ever had in your life. Or if there's something particular that you've been dying to do to me, a notion you just haven't been able to get out of your head" he traced a finger along her hairline and behind her ear, coming to rest at her jaw by her lips, and she fought not to lean into his touch "I'd be happy to oblige".  
Bonnie's mind raced. She wanted him more than she ever thought it possible to want someone, and infuriatingly he knew it. _Smug asshole_. But it couldn't be objectionable if no money changed hands, could it? Then why did it still give her pause? Her palms were sweaty and her stomach was doing flips, but with anticipation or nerves she couldn't tell.  
"16 minutes: Clock's ticking, Bonnie. What do you say?"  
She paused for a moment. "Anything I want?"  
"Within reason."  
Suddenly she knew exactly what she wanted. It wouldn't slake her lust, but would give her a taste without compromising what she believed in.  
"Yes."  
He waved Tyler over to take care of Bonnie's laptop and bag as he took her hand and led her to the private room.


	2. Chapter 2

As the door clicked shut behind them, Bonnie's nerves hit with full force. Without the bar or her laptop or his drink, it felt like she had no armour to hide behind. The room was surprisingly spacious, divided at the centre with thin curtains to form two distinct areas. At the front was a simple section that looked like a living room with a sofa and an armoire. At the back, behind the curtain, was a wardrobe and a large bed. There was a door to what was obviously a small bathroom. Huh, kind of like he’d said - an expensive hotel room with complimentary orgasms. The only thing that set it apart was the low music coming from speakers she couldn't see: It was quiet and rhythmic, almost like a pulse - just enough to take the edge off the silence. 

"So..." She shivered as confident fingers ran a line from the nape of her neck down the exposed skin her halter top left at her back. "Now that you have me all alone and at your mercy, what are you going to do with me?"  
Her stomach twisted as she thought about the two options he had presented her with. His lips pressed against just the right spot on her neck as his hands slid around her waist and she felt her knees go weak. Her resolve was seconds from crumbling completely.  
"Actually," her voice came out a little hoarse at first "I was thinking maybe I could watch you undress?"  
She felt him smile against her neck.  
"Fifteen minutes of anything you want and you choose a striptease?"  
"Just the strip, no time to tease."  
"I think I can manage that." She felt him gesture against her neck. "View's better from the couch."  
It was a physical struggle to move away from the heat of his body pressed against her, but she knew time was running short. She was impressed she managed to stay on her feet all the way to the sofa. She sat and tucked her legs under her to stop herself from fidgeting. 

Across the room, Dominic had shucked off his shoes (removing shoes was never sexy) and had started to loosen his tie. The look on his face was pure bedroom, and his eyes practically burned into her as she watched. He slid out of his jacket and for the first time Bonnie could make out his clearly defined muscles. He undid the knot and slid his tie through his collar effortlessly. Somehow even without dancing or moving to music, there was a cadence to his movements that oozed sexuality: A rhythm that meant she couldn't think of anything except how amazing he might be in bed. He moved slowly, but purposefully. But her attention was snapped right back to the here and now as he started to undo his shirt. Every button revealed another glimpse of the expanse of perfect golden skin beneath, and when he reached the last button and the shirt fell open, she felt herself suppress a sound of pure wanting at the sight of his bared chest. He looked like he was sculpted from marble: Well-muscled without looking overly ripped (nothing was less attractive than a guy so muscle-bound he couldn’t put his arms all the way down), and hip bones that cut a deep ‘V’ on his stomach, framing the tempting trail of dark hair that extended downwards from his navel. 

Bonnie felt embarrassed, like she should be looking away, but she couldn't have even if she wanted to: It was like she was transfixed as his fingers deftly unbuckled his belt, worked open his button and unzipped. His trousers fell away and her eyes caught on the corded muscle of his thighs. She could only imagine the strength in them - he must be able to fuck against a wall for hours. Bonnie had obviously been lost in that thought, as when he cleared his throat to get her attention, he had kicked aside his trousers and somehow removed his socks without her noticing. He had his thumbs hooked under the waistband of his black boxer briefs (that somehow, even though they were form fitting, concealed any lines that would hint at what lay beneath), his eyebrow raised in silent question. Bonnie schooled her facial expression into some kind of neutrality and nodded. He pulled them off and Bonnie had to suck in a gasp: He was huge. Just as she was starting to wonder how that was supposed to fit inside a human woman...  
"Do you want me hard?"  
The way he asked it was matter of fact and almost clinical.  
"You're already..." Bonnie realised on further inspection that he was, in fact, at half mast. Unable to form words, she just nodded again. 

Bonnie had to fight not to lick her lips as he took himself in hand and pumped his own shaft in front of her, growing impossibly harder and larger. He didn't break eye contact, which was equal parts unnerving and extremely erotic. A few passes of his hand later, his voice had taken on a slightly breathy quality that she wished she could bottle it was so sexy.  
"What do you want me to do now?"  
Truth be told, she hadn't really thought this far ahead. She had just wanted the mental image of him to take home with her and warm her on lonely nights, but now she had him here, hard and ready. However with only... she glanced at the clock... 8 minutes left, there wasn't much time left for anything else. She could easily have just looked at him until her time was up, maybe even explored him with her hands (she was dying to know how his skin felt, and tasted for that matter), but he had given her a different idea.  
"Could you..." Her voice came out shaky, so she cleared her throat. "Could you keep touching yourself? Please."  
"If that's what you want." He gave her a smile that reassured her that her request wasn't weird, and she couldn't help but smile back.  
She watched as he eased his hand down his stomach, slowly sliding his grip around the base of his shaft with deliberate movements, clearly putting on a show for her benefit.  
"Not like that." He stopped instantly and quirked an eyebrow at her. Her confidence faltered. "Not like you're doing it for an audience. Like you would do at home. For yourself."  
She felt her face flush red as it occurred to her that maybe a man in his position didn't need to masturbate, but her fears were dissipated when he took himself in hand, differently this time. His movements were sharper than before, and rougher that she would have been with her own hands. The angle of his hand was slightly different, giving her a bit less of a clear visual than she had before when he was doing it exclusively for her to watch. His eyes still didn't leave her, but instead of remaining focused on her own, they roved her body, unabashedly drinking in her curves, making her feel as if she were the one that was naked. He moaned, soft and low, and she could almost feel the rumble of it in her own chest. She was spellbound as she watched him, her core throbbing with need in a way she didn't think it ever had before. She hadn't even laid a hand on him or herself, and she was so turned on she could barely form a coherent thought; under his gaze, she had never felt more desirable. He had intended to use this time to entice her, and despite her best intentions he was achieving exactly that. 

Minutes passed, his breathing quickened, and his hips were almost imperceptibly thrusting into his own hand. His eyes had turned from almost icy blue to pure black, and when they weren't completely focused on her, they were squeezed shut with pleasure. The tight muscles of his abdomen flexed with his movements and his breath, and she could imagine that at the height of passion, thin rivulets of sweat would funnel between those muscles as he thrust. As the image entered her head, she clamped her thighs together, desperate for any relief from the burning ache there. His dick was smooth and rock hard (she was frankly surprised there was enough blood left in the rest of his body to keep him upright) and the tip glistened with pre-cum as he pumped it. She had the almost irresistible urge to taste him, which came as a shock to her as she had never particularly enjoyed giving head before. Still, the idea of being the cause of him falling apart made the thought infinitely more appealing.  
She was summoned out of her trance by a voice that sounded as heavy with need as she felt.  
"Do you want me to come?"  
A thrill coursed through her. She knew that if she asked him to stop, he would - and without a moment's hesitation. Hell, he probably wouldn't even outwardly show frustration. But while that power held some serious appeal, and a part of her wanted to teach the arrogant prick a lesson by denying him, she bet he was beautiful when he lost control. If she couldn’t have him, she wanted at least the memory of that.  
"Please."  
Bonnie watched as his grip tightened and his pace quickened a little. His breaths became ragged and he threw his head back, his face scrunched up in pure bliss.  
"Fuck... Bon..."  
His thighs quaked as thick white ropes of his release spurted onto the wooden floor. If the visual hadn't been the sexist thing in existence, then the way he said her name as he came sure as hell was. It was a few moments before he opened his eyes and his breathing began to steady, during which she thankfully realised she was gaping rather unattractively and composed herself before he saw her.

Dominic grabbed a wet wipe from a hidden compartment by the drapes and cleaned himself off. Most of the mess had landed on the floor, but he didn't seem bothered. The room had probably seen far worse, she mused, and they would have cleaners for that.  
"Time's up. Your friend will be out any second."  
"I should go meet her." Bonnie tried to ignore how slickly her thighs rubbed together as she rose to her feet and made to leave. She wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to say or do. He caught her by the arm before she reached the door.  
"So, did you enjoy the show?" His voice was still husky and breathy.  
"I did." It would’ve been futile to lie.  
"I do a matinee on Sundays." Bonnie laughed. Somehow even as a physical embodiment of sex, he still managed to pull off adorable. "Any chance you might be enticed for an encore?" He moved a stray strand of hair from her face, close enough she could feel his breath on her skin, his eyes honed in on her lips, and she desperately focused on resisting the temptation to run her hands over his naked body. "Audience participation greatly encouraged."  
"I'll think about it." In truth, Bonnie would struggle to think about anything else for a while, but his ego didn't need to know that.  
"I want you to know how hard I'm trying to resist making a crack about box seats right now."  
Bonnie laughed. He was gorgeous, flirty, charming, and funny. It really wasn't fair that he was only interested in her for her credit limit.  
"I appreciate your self-restraint."  
"I was very disappointed with yours."  
She felt her heart stutter. No, she said to herself - he's just saying that because you're a nice little earner he missed out on.  
"Well, from your relentless charm offensive at the bar, it seemed to me you needed to get off way more than I did, so I did you a favour. I'm charitable that way." She was sure the lie was about as transparent as her sodden panties would be right now. "Goodnight, Dominic" 

She bolted out the door before he could respond, relieved to see Elena ready and waiting to go at the bar. She was smiling from ear to ear and practically glowing, which made the almost painful lack of friction between Bonnie's thighs all the more infuriating.  
"Bonnie! I was wondering where you were. What were you doing in there?"  
"Couldn't find the ladies room. Ready to go?"  
If Elena spotted the lie through her euphoric haze, she didn't say anything, just grabbed her arm and steered her out the door.  
"I owe you serious friend points for coming with me tonight. That was amazing. Like, I-think-I-need-a-cigarette-and-I-don't-even-smoke kind of amazing. He did this thing where... I guess I should start from the beginning..."  
As Elena began her blow-by-blow recap of her hour of bliss, Bonnie pretended to listen attentively, but all she could think of was the infuriatingly unresolved ache of her own desire, and the blue-eyed fallen angel that had caused it.


	3. Chapter 3

Damon Salvatore sidled up to the desk and flashed his best winning smile.   
"Evening Ginger, how's my favourite gal?"   
"What do you want, Damon?"   
The admin girls at Indigo spent plenty of time around the most handsome and beautiful escorts the city had to offer, and had long since become immune to their charms. Ginger was no exception.   
"Why Ginger, I'm offended. Why do you always presume I want something more than the pleasure of your company?" Ginger glowered at him. "Fine, I wanted you to check the logs and let me know if a particular member has been in touch lately."   
"What's the matter, hotshot? Worried you might be losing your touch and one of your regulars is defecting? Not like you don't have a full enough roster as it is."   
"You speak to my adoring retinue day in day out, sweetie, you know as well as I do I'm not losing my touch. I met a new member the other night is all. She seemed kind of unsure about joining. Was wondering if she'd been back."   
Ginger pursed her lips. "Damon, you know as well as I do that member records are confidential."   
"I don't want her social security number, I just want to know if she's been in contact." Ginger looked stern. "Please. I'll owe you one."   
She looked thoughtful for a moment.   
"My bitch sister has been flaunting her new boyfriend and thinks he's God's gift. If I can send the family group chat a picture of you and me together and say we're dating, she'll shit bricks."   
Damon smiled that smile that said he knew he'd won. "You want my shirt on or off?"   
"On. She has a heart condition, and I only want her to die metaphorically." He snuck behind the desk and snapped a quick, intimate-looking picture with her phone, before giving her Bonnie's name.

"Okay, so you met this girl Thursday... Oh, looks like she came back in on Saturday, someone was keen." Damon's heart may have actually stopped then. He had told her he was only in every third day, so had she come to see someone else? "Wait, she was only here a few minutes, that can't be right... Ah, she just left her laptop here and was picking it up."   
Damon loosed a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.   
"So has she been in contact since?"   
"Nope. Doesn't look like it. How come?"   
He concealed his disappointment.   
"Nothing. Just had a feeling she might book something with me. Damn, maybe you're right. Maybe I am losing my touch."   
Just then, Ginger's phone started blowing up. Her family obviously had the desired reaction to the photo.   
"Somehow I don't think that's likely. Don’t worry, dollface, she'll call. Have a good shift."

\---

Bonnie was losing her mind. It had been over two weeks since the night at Indigo, and she hadn't been able to get Dominic off of her mind. When she had gotten home that night and finally been able to finish herself off, it had taken her under a minute to get off and it had (as he had promised) been the most intense orgasm of her life. But ten minutes later, she was still unfulfilled. And again the next morning. A few days later, and she felt like if she had spent another minute touching herself, it might be enough to get her admitted to some kind of rehab. No matter how long she spent trying to alleviate her obsession, she wound up feeling just as horny and frustrated as day one. And now, slumped in an unfamiliar hotel bed 2 days into a business trip in New York where she had carelessly forgotten to pack her vibrator, she was practically feral. In an important meeting this afternoon, she had been snappy and her attention was divided - not the impression she needed to be giving to her shareholders or the board. Her father would turn in his grave at her lack of professionalism. 

This wasn't fair. Bonnie was a strong woman who had always been independent. The idea that a man - any man, but particularly one so full of himself - had this kind of influence over her made her blood boil (which in turn only fuelled her frustration). She wasn't even supposed to have been at Indigo that night! Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she would be this ravenous if she had let him use those fifteen minutes as he had intended. At first, when she had pleasured herself, she just thought about the frankly delicious visual he had given her. But as days passed and her lust didn't abate, she had started to wonder what he might have done with those fifteen minutes if he was given free reign to convince her to avail herself of his services. She knew they wouldn't have had sex - he himself had told her that what they had was barely enough time for foreplay by his standards, and he had to save something to entice her back with. But there are plenty of things a man can do to a woman without penetrative sex, and she bet he knew all of them, plus a few variations all his own... Bonnie clamped her thighs together. This train of thought wasn't helping _at all_. She looked over at where her cellphone was on charge, briefly wondering if she could use a combination of the hotel's phone and her vibrate feature to get her some much needed relief before realising how insane that sounded. But then she had another thought... She did the math in her head, he was due to be working tonight. 

_No, I couldn’t… Could I?_

Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she was dialling the number.   
"Indigo, Ginger speaking, how may I help you?"   
"Hi. Um, is Dominic there?"   
"He's unavailable at the moment. I can take a message, or if you need to make a booking I can help with that."   
Bonnie presumed ' _unavailable_ ' was industry code for _'between another woman's thighs'_.   
"No, it's okay, don't worry about it. I'll call another time."   
"Excuse me if I'm out of line, but is this Miss Bennett?"   
Bonnie froze, half tempted to just hang up now.   
"Y-yes."   
"I think I might have been mistaken. Let me see if I can get him for you."

\---

Damon had just gotten out of the shower and was drying himself off. His first client of the night had been a high flying socialite from Europe who could have her pick of thousands of men, but liked to keep herself available and the tabloids guessing. She always made time to visit Damon when she had occasion to be in the US. Not a regular per se, but someone whose body he knew well enough to play her like an instrument. It had been an easy hour's money, and though he usually came when he was with her, this time he just hadn't been 100% into it. He still couldn't quite get his mind off of Bonnie Bennett: It was incredibly rare he met a woman who caught him off guard. Her body had been so deliciously responsive, displaying her every reaction like a neon sign, but her heart and mind were completely closed off. Every fibre of her being (and his) had been screaming to let him touch her, but she couldn't get past the barrier that her conscience put up. Even despite her misgivings, he was almost certain that she would have booked an appointment by now. She had been half-mad with desire when she had left Indigo just over two weeks ago, though she was trying damn hard to hide it. He had stripped and touched himself for others a lot of times - voyeurism was a common request - but never like that. He had never been asked to make things more 'authentic' before, and in the absence of a denial kink, it was unheard of for the voyeur not to get off while watching. Instead she just watched, growing more and more desperate until she had barely been able to walk out of there without feeling it. And after all that, she had tried to bluff him that he had been more affected than she was. She was repressed and judgemental and haughty... And he was totally hooked. 

He had slung his towel low around his waist and was absently drying his hair with another when the door burst open. Ginger looked like the cat that got the cream.   
"Don't people knock anymore? What if I was indecent?" He offered her a wink for good measure.   
"I have a hunch you'll appreciate my lack of decorum a hell of a lot more in a minute. I have your new girl holding on line 2."   
That got his attention. "Bennett? Did she call to book? Why the hell are you keeping her on hold?"   
"Easy, hotshot. She didn't call to make an appointment. She wanted to talk to you. I know the usual line is that you guys don't take calls, but I had a feeling you might make an exception for this one."   
Two weeks of radio silence and now she wanted to _talk_? This girl was making a habit of blindsiding him.

  
"I knew there was a reason you were my favourite, Ginger."

\---

Despite the really chilled out hold music, Bonnie's mind was racing. What the hell was she doing?! What did she think this would actually achieve? She was about to chicken out and hang up when...   
"Bonnie Bennett. You don't call, you don't write. My self esteem was really taking a knock there." Bonnie rolled her eyes. "How've you been?"

  
His voice was like velvet. Damn.  
"Cursing the day you were born."  
There was a beat of silence before he answered. Obviously not the answer he had been expecting.  
"And why might that be?"  
Bonnie bit her lip, wondering for the fiftieth time since she picked up the phone what on earth had gotten into her ( _not Dominic_ , she mused to herself - that was the problem in a nutshell).  
"I can't stop thinking about the other night."  
"I don't know what you could possibly be referring to. Maybe you can refresh my memory?" She could hear the smirk in his voice. _Bastard._   
"This was a mistake. I should never have called."  
"Wait - don't go. I couldn't resist, I'm sorry." A pause before he continued. "So, I'm a little confused. What part of the other night being memorable is a bad thing?"  
She tried to think how to phrase it subtly, but decided that delicacy with someone in Dominic's profession was unnecessary.   
"The part where I've burned through two new sets of batteries in as many weeks, and I still can't think straight."  
His laugh was irksomely cute.   
"So why haven't I seen your name crop up in my diary? Better yet, carpe that diem and get your ass down here tonight."  
"Another slow night?"  
"I think I can squeeze you in." (Truth be told, he had a queue, but it was nothing a few dazzling smiles at his favourite admin gal couldn't fix).  
"I can't, I'm in New York for the week on business." The fact that if she had been in town, she might actually have done it surprised her.   
  
"That's a real shame." She had to hand it to him - his disappointment sounded genuine. She could see how women could get hooked on that kind of attention enough that they could forget the thousands of dollars they were paying for it. "So, if you're 400 miles away, then presuming you didn't call just to tell me I'm an asshole, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"   
"I wanted to know... I was wondering... If I hadn't asked you to..." She could feel herself flushing red and he wasn't even in the room. "How would you have spent those fifteen minutes?" 

He didn't respond for a couple of seconds, and not knowing his reaction was maddening.   
"You know, there are hotlines that charge by the minute for that sort of thing. They would be cheaper and frankly better at it that I am."   
"Modesty? That's a first."   
"I'm more of a hands-on kinda guy."   
"So tell me what you would have done with those hands." She sounded snappy, even to herself. "Please. I'm developing carpal tunnel and I'm losing my mind. I need this." The rest wasn't said, but it was implied: _I need you._   
"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you that this is not in my wheelhouse."   
She smiled. "Noted. So, what were you planning on-"   
"Wait, formalities first. What’re you wearing?"   
She looked down at the dishevelled skirt suit she was still partially wearing, having collapsed in a frustrated heap the moment she had gotten in, and frowned.   
"That wasn't part of the plan."   
"Uh-uh, if we're doing this, we're doing it my way, and I'm gonna need a visual. Seedy motel or opulent suite? Long nightgown or ex-boyfriend's T-shirt? Thong or boyshorts? Gimme something to work with." When she didn't reply, he added: "I bet you're the long flowy nightgown type. Very Jane Austen."   
She rolled her eyes. "First of all, as if you read. Secondly, ew. Thirdly, I'm not exactly dressed for sleeping."   
"Then what are you dressed for?" His voice was practically a purr.   
"More boardroom than bedroom. I kinda threw myself at the duvet after a stupidly late meeting. I even still have my shoes on."   
“Heels?”   
"Yeah…”   
"Good, leave them on. What else?"   
"Black skirtsuit. White blouse."   
"Pantyhose?"   
"No, it's hot in New York."   
"Unbutton the blouse."   
"Someone's bossy."   
"Someone's overdressed. Unbutton the blouse, smartass."   
Bonnie could hear the smile in his voice. She did as she was told.   
"Why am I overdressed, what are you wearing?"   
"A towel."   
"Bullshit. This is what I hate about phone sex, people just say what you wanna hear."   
"Scout's honour. You caught me between clients." Focusing on getting dainty designer buttons undone was a challenge when every brain cell not occupied with breathing was forming a comprehensive picture of a freshly-fucked Dominic in a towel. "Are you unbuttoned yet?"   
"Almost."   
"Good job you didn't call those by-the-minute guys. You'd be bankrupt by now."   
"Shut up. The buttons are fiddly. I still don't know why I'm bothering. You can't see me, and I can access the important parts with my shirt on."   
"I'm just getting you comfortable."   
"Then why are my heels still on?"   
"Aesthetic purposes. I'm building a mental picture, here. You can take ‘em off, just don't tell me."   
She laughed.   
"Okay, I'm unbuttoned. Should I take off the blouse?"   
"Not unless you want to. You wearing a bra?"   
"Yeah. Plain black."   
"Black bra under a white blouse? Someone wanted to be ogled today."   
"Or someone forgot to pack a white one."   
"Details. My version is better. How long is the skirt?"   
"You ask a lot of questions."   
"Just gathering information. There are a lot of variables on your end. What are you gonna ask - what thread count my towel is?"   
She suppressed a giggle. "The skirt is just above the knee."   
"A daring choice for the boardroom."   
"I told you, it's hot in New York."   
"Okay. Can you hitch it up high enough without taking it off?"   
"Yes."   
"Good. One last thing: What are you wearing underneath? Wait... On second thoughts, surprise me later."   
"For someone who tried to pawn me off on a hotline, you're pretty into this."   
"Call it professional pride. So, let me set the scene. It's two weeks ago, you and I are cosied up in a little booth in the city's premier den of iniquity. You're doing your best to convince yourself that you aren't desperate to get your hands on me, I sense there is... potential, deep under all those layers of repression, offer you a taste, and we head somewhere a little more private."

  
"You should do book jackets." Bonnie drawled.  
"So that's us all caught up. We walked into the room, I started to kiss your neck... Then you switched gears."  
Bonnie sighed impatiently. "I know all this, it's what was gonna come after-"  
"You have no idea how hard it was to stop touching you." Bonnie felt her body flush with warmth. He had that slight raspy quality to his voice he'd had that night when he had been turned on, and it made her impulsively squeeze her legs together. "I wanted to make you forget every reservation you had about going in there. Wanted to make you forget your own name. It almost drove me crazy when you didn't even touch yourself when you were watching me. I knew you wanted to - Christ, it was written all over you." He paused, and Bonnie was thankful for the chance to catch her breath. "Sometimes you would let out a sigh and try to cover it up, or bite back a little moan that just kind of died in your throat. It killed me not knowing how you sounded. Took every ounce of my self control not to throw you on the bed behind the curtain and spend every second of however long we had left wringing every sound I could out of you until your voice gave out."

Bonnie didn't know when her breathing had gotten so shallow. He had barely said anything, she hadn't laid a hand on herself, and she was already practically pulsating with need. Some cynical voice in the back of her head was telling her that he was just saying what she wanted to hear, but that gravel in his voice didn’t sound faked.   
"Why didn't you?"   
"Because your body might have been giving all the right signals, but that's not what you asked for. Consent is sexy."   
Bonnie smiled at the cheesy line. "Is that a company slogan?"   
"Well, we were gonna have t-shirts made, but it seemed a little pointless given how we're naked most of the time."   
She laughed. "So come on. Put me out of my misery. If I hadn't steered things the way I did, what would you have done?"   
Another beat of silence.   
"Do you remember how I kissed your neck?"   
Bonnie thought back to that spine-tingling kiss. It was pretty impossible to forget that. She thought the impression of it might even be branded into her skin.   
"Yes."   
"Do you remember my hand running down your back?"   
Her hand brushed of its own volition across the bared skin at her chest, as if trying to mimic his touch.   
"Yes."   
"Before you pulled away, I put my hands on your waist. I was going to pull you back so you were pressed against me, so you could feel that I was getting hard. I'd slide one hand into your shirt, brush the underside of your breast while I kissed your neck. Light touches, while the other hand dips down and pulls your skirt up to trace circles on your thigh. Close enough that I can feel the heat of you radiating from your underwear, just like you can feel the heat of my breath on your neck." Bonnie imagined the feel of his kiss on her skin, his touch on her body, and softly breathed out a sigh into the pillow beside her. "I'm gonna need you to not do that."   
Bonnie was confused. "Do what?"   
"Cover up those sexy little sounds you make. I can't see you, so I need a little vocal guidance to know if things’re working for you."   
"What if there's people in the rooms either side of me?"   
"Make 'em jealous."   
"Dominic!"   
“Keep saying my name like that. Should do the trick.”   
She rolled her eyes. "So where were we?"   
"I was just starting to tease you, palm your breasts gently. Maybe just brush my fingers over the fabric of your underwear, my thumb grazing your clit."   
She mimicked the motion of his hands with her own free hand, first reaching into her bra and grazing over her nipple, and then a caress venturing lower. As she imagined it was his hand she could feel ghosting over her, a soft moan escaped her lips. She didn't try to suppress it.   
"That's more like it. How wet would you have been by then?"   
"Honest answer?"   
"Unless you think it'll bruise my fragile ego."   
"Hardly. I was soaking through my panties before we even left the bar."

There was a short silence where she swore she hadn't even heard him breathe.   
"And now?" She thought she might not have imagined the breathy quality his own voice had taken on: He was getting turned on, too.   
"I don't know. I haven't touched myself like that yet." Her fingers tentatively brushed at her entrance, sticky sweetness coating them, but she paused there. "I'm waiting, Dominic. What would you have done next?"   
“I would’ve run two fingers along your slit, maybe brought them back up to my mouth so I could get a taste of you. I bet you taste like syrup and cinnamon.” Her breathing stuttered at the thought of him sucking her off of his fingers. “I would’ve dipped into you barely to my knuckles, just enough to tease, before running the pads of my fingers - drenched from my mouth and your slick – in light circles over your clit.” Bonnie mirrored the action with her own hand, her body reflexively clenching to try and pull her fingers in as they barely dipped inside her, and sparks igniting under her skin at the friction on her clit. As she continued to touch herself. his voice was doing most of the work, and the memory of his lips on her neck was doing the rest. “Does that feel good?” Bonnie could only moan in response. “Good, now you’re gonna switch it up a little. I want you to press your fingers inside and rest your thumb on your clit. I want you to rub your clit gently while making a walking motion with your fingers against your G-Spot. Can you do that for me?”   
“Is that how you would’ve done it?”   
She heard him breathe a laugh. “If I’d got a taste of you, you’d’ve been sprawled on the couch with my head between your thighs by now, so bear with me if I go off script.” The intense visual of her fingers twisting in that mop of raven-black hair collided with the first stroke of her finger curling against her G-spot and she made a sound that normally she would’ve been deeply embarrassed by, but met as it was with a breathy “ _fuck_ ” down the phone, she couldn’t bring herself to be mad about it. Her breath was coming in short pants now, and she could feel the tension coiling inside her like a spring. “You sound like you’re close. When you’re on the edge and you feel like you’re about to go over, I want you to curl both fingers and press down hard on your clit, okay?”   
She was so close it was almost painful.   
“Just keep talking. Don’t stop.”   
“I hate that you didn’t just give in and let me do this to you two fucking weeks ago. In fact, fuck what might’ve happened before: I want you to imagine me 400 miles away in nothing but a towel with my hand around my cock desperate to hear you come."   
That did it. With a strangled cry, Bonnie was in free-fall. She just about remembered to follow his instructions, and the extra stimulation on both her G-spot and her clit sent it from good to cataclysmic. Her orgasm seemed to last forever, and she was a breathless wreck at the end – almost forgetting her partner in crime until she heard his voice again.

“Feeling better?”   
”Mmm… Much. Thank you, Dominic.”   
There was a beat of silence, something like hesitation. She was about to ask if he was still there when:   
“Damon.”   
“What?”   
”My name. My real name. It’s Damon.”   
“Damon.” Still basking in post-orgasmic bliss, she tasted it on her tongue. “It suits you better. But… Why tell me?”   
“Because I wanted to hear you say it.”   
“God, you’re such a narcissist.”  
  
"And technically you’re not a client. That’s two freebies now: You want the shirt off my back?”   
“Wouldn’t you have to put one on first?”   
”Touché. So, am I gonna see your name on my appointment list when you get back?”   
“Maybe.”   
“You’re killing me, Bennett.”   
“I’m hanging up now."   
“Waitwaitwait… Before you go just tell me one thing.”   
“What?”   
“What were you wearing under that skirt?”   
Bonnie bit her lip in consideration. _Oh, what the hell._   
“Not a damn thing. Goodnight, Damon.”   
She hung up before he could reply.

\---

Damon sighed and looked wistfully at the handset as he hung it back on the dock. This girl had managed to test his sanity, his boundaries, and his self-control all in one day. Impressive. He had teethmarks in his finger from where he had bitten down to keep from touching himself as he listened to her get herself off, and his towel was valiantly clinging on to his modesty despite the significant tenting. He had been sorely tempted to indulge his impulse like he told her he had, but his next appointment would be here soon, and he’d be cutting it close even with his refractory period.   
Even then: Fantasising about a (potential) client? Hugely unprofessional. _Definite_ no-no. Terrible idea.

  
He shifted his gaze helplessly towards the ceiling, whispering to the empty room.  
“This girl is trouble.”


	4. Chapter 4

Bonnie forced herself to take slow, even breaths as she listened to the dial tone. She could hardly believe she was doing this, and was slightly horrified at the anticipation that bubbled up alongside her nervousness. She could say her grams would be turning in her grave, but if she was honest, her grams would probably have disapproved of her cowardice far more than the cause of it.   
"Indigo, Krystal speaking, how may I help you?"   
"Hi..." Her voice squeaked a little and she cleared her throat. "Um... Hi. My name is Bonnie Bennett, I'm a member. I wanted to... I was wondering if I could make an appointment with Da...Dominic? Please." _Shoot me now._   
"Sure thing. Have you had a session with him before?"   
"Not really." She realised immediately how dumb that sounded considering it was very much a 'yes' or 'no' question. "I mean, no." (It was a safe bet that her previous two encounters didn't count). "I met him at the club a few weeks back but this will be my first session."   
"Okay. Don't worry sweetie, you're in _very_ good hands." Bonnie felt a stab of jealousy when she wondered if Krystal ( _who she’d made the assumption spelled her name with a K, tramp_ ) was speaking from experience, before realising how absurd it was to feel any kind of possessiveness over a guy who literally slept with other women for a living.

Krystal went over some dates with her and she picked Friday evening. That should give her something to look forward to (or, more likely, to obsessively panic about) during the week.   
"Would you prefer to use a room here at Indigo, book a hotel, or would you like Dominic to visit you at home?"   
Bonnie hesitated. While the rooms at Indigo seemed nice, and she knew logically they kept the place clinically clean, she didn't want to think about how many other women had laid on that bed before her. A hotel felt seedy. Still, bringing someone back to her place was a huge step in terms of trust. Could she take that with someone like him? Then she thought about how he had - unprompted - chosen to trust her with his real name. He had taken that first step in building trust she figured she could do the same.   
"My place. Do you need...?"   
Krystal pre-empted her question. "We have your address on file from the background checks. Now, seeing as this is your first appointment, we book an extra fifteen minutes for you and your companion to go over limitations, likes and dislikes, and anything you want to explore." Bonnie's eyes bugged out in minor panic at the thought of having that conversation with Damon, but that was Friday's problem. "However, we do ask if you have a particular request if you let us know now, we can check in advance if it's something Dominic is happy to do. And please don't be embarrassed sweetie, we've heard it all before."   
Even Bonnie's skin tone couldn't hide how she flushed completely scarlet. She really didn't want anything special or kinky, she just wanted Damon.   
"N-no. Just... Normal." She felt spectacularly vanilla and boring right about now.   
"Nothing wrong with that at all, honey. Best to be safe than sorry is all, especially when eight out of ten want the _Fifty Shades_ treatment." Bonnie breathed a little sigh of relief. Much as she hated to admit it, Krystal was being really nice. "We're all done here. Dominic will see you Friday at 9 at your place."   
"Thanks Krystal."   
"No problem sweetie. Enjoy."   
Bonnie hung up and took in a deep breath.   
_Oh god, it's really happening_.

\---

 _Oh god, it's really happening_ seemed to be the prevailing thought for Bonnie for the rest of the week. She struggled to remind herself that she was a powerful and independent woman and that this was just her taking charge of her sexuality.   
With a prostitute.   
Who was coming to her house.   
Today.   
_Oh god, it's really happening_.   
And repeat.   
Bonnie had been staring at the front door since 8.47pm, so she really shouldn't have jumped when the doorbell rang. She took a moment to steady herself before opening the door.

  
When she opened it, she forgot how to breathe for a second. Apparently her memory didn't do justice to just how unbelievably sexy he was. He was wearing a charcoal grey suit and black shirt with a couple of buttons undone showing a hint of golden skin underneath. Ice blue eyes (that she would say twinkled if it wasn't so damn corny) peeked out through a curtain of black hair that begged to have fingers run through it, and his smirk was practically a sign saying _'I know I look good'_. It was like sex incarnate leaning against her porch.   
_Oh god, it's really happening._   
"Well, look whose name finally showed up on my appointment list."   
He leaned in and it took Bonnie a moment to realise he was going in to kiss her. She panicked and pulled back.   
"What're you doing?"   
His face was utter confusion. "Um, would've thought that was obvious."   
"I thought pro... _professionals_ didn't kiss on the mouth?"   
He looked mildly amused. "Do I look like Julia Roberts? Of course I kiss on the mouth."   
Bonnie flushed crimson. "Oh."   
He waited a second. "So are we going inside or...?"   
Bonnie realised she'd just been standing there.   
"Shit, sorry. Of course, yes." She stood to one side to let him in.   
He stepped in the door and put down a briefcase she hadn't noticed he had been holding. He stepped towards her, placing a hand around her waist and one on her shoulder. She almost flinched.   
"Nervous much?"   
"What gave it away?" She deadpanned, managing a smile, which he returned warmly.   
"Okay well that's not gonna work for me. Where's your kitchen?"   
The question blindsided her a little. She gestured through the alcove.   
"Right. I am going to go ransack it, and pour you a ludicrously large glass of wine, because you look so tense I'm worried your might strain something." She smiled, reminded of how good he was at this – at putting her at ease. After all he had taken her from cold and closed off to telling him to take his clothes off in under an hour. "And you are going to take this." He handed her a folded set of papers. "And this." A pen. "And go get comfortable on the sofa for the boring paperwork portion of tonight's activities. And we’ll go from there. That sound like a plan?"   
His thumb was soothing at her shoulder and she relaxed a little against his touch.   
"Yeah, I think I can do that."   
"Okay. See you in a sec." He swatted her ass and pushed her in the direction of the sofa. She tutted in mock disapproval - finding herself settling back a little into their flirtatious banter. She clicked the pen.   
"Kind of disappointed this doesn't come with a vibrate feature if I'm honest." She said to his retreating form heading to the kitchen. The rooms were close enough she could talk to him while he was rummaging through her cabinets   
"What do you think’s in the briefcase?" He shot back without looking.   
She raised her eyebrows and looked at the briefcase he had set down in the hallway in a new light before taking her seat on the sofa.   
"Well, now I'm curious."   
"Homework first, then if you're good you can play with the toys... Aha!" She took the noise of triumph to mean he had found the corkscrew. "Red or white?"   
"There should be a bottle of merlot in the rack on the counter."   
"Got it." She heard him uncork it and fill up a glass. 

Bonnie unfurled the papers and started to read. There were two separate sections. One looked like a pretty generic agreement, whereas the other was like a matrix of yes/no/? tickboxes. Some were greyed out, and a scan of the key said these were things the 'companion' didn't do. That must be what Krystal was talking about. Looking down the list, Bonnie was a little flustered. To say it was detailed was a huge understatement - it named every sex act she had ever heard of (and a few she hadn't) explicitly. She put a few ticks in obvious boxes where she knew her answer instinctively (Vaginal sex – Yes, Oral sex – Yes. Anal sex – No. Sex toys - Maybe). Most of the things she wasn’t into (BDSM, watersports – ew, etc), she was pleasantly surprised to find were greyed out. That only left a few boxes, and she fished her phone out of her pocket.   
“Bored already?” Damon sauntered back in and handed her a (very full, as promised) glass, throwing himself down into a comfortable man-spread on the other end of the sofa. “I’m not sure my ego can take it if you bail on me to play Angry Birds.”   
“Bear with me, I’m not fluent in PornHub so I’m googling…”   
Damon laughed. “Or you could just ask the resident sexpert.”   
“I don’t think so.” Her eyes went wide as her image search showed up a result. “And I’m suddenly done googling.” She put a big cross in the ‘No’ box for that one. “So I’m just gonna say ‘no’ to the other things I don’t recognise.”   
“Stubborn as a mule. Just ask, I promise I won’t laugh if you blush. Much.” She kicked him gently in the ribs and he grabbed her foot and started rubbing it. She wanted to object but it felt so good she just laid back into the seat with a little sound of satisfaction.   
“Okay I give in. What’s ‘Frottage’?”

  
“Dry-humping.”   
“Is that all? I thought it would be something really out there.”   
“See? Now aren’t you glad you didn’t say ‘no’ without checking?”   
“’Pegging’?”   
“Using a strap on.”   
“Ew. No.” He seamlessly moved to massage the other foot. ”’Bottoming?’”   
A stifled laugh. “Not relevant for you.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Unless your anatomy is entirely not what I was expecting.”   
“Wait, like gay bottoming? This isn’t greyed out – Are you…? I mean do you…?"   
“Swing both ways? No, but I will go gay for pay.” Her mouth hung open in shock as she tried (and abysmally failed) not to imagine him with another man. “Hey, less of the judgy. Male clients tip better.”   
She fought back a giggle. ”Just the tip?”   
He laughed despite himself and she didn’t think she was imagining the hint of blush in his cheeks.   
“Quit stalling. I’m running out of readily available body parts to massage.”   
She made a point of pulling her foot away and turning around, laying back against him in a not-so-subtle hint to rub her shoulders. It was amazing how quickly she had gone from deer caught in the headlights to being at ease with his company, but she guessed he was used to making people feel comfortable. His fingers started working at her neck and shoulders and she practically melted against him.

Now done with the checklist, she moved on to the generic agreement. She always made a point of thoroughly reading anything she signed, but quickly found her attention drawn elsewhere as Damon’s lips pressed against her neck as he continued to rub her shoulders. Whilst it definitely gave a renewed urgency to finishing up the formalities, she was pragmatic, and didn’t want to sign without knowing what she was getting herself into. But the kisses in the hollow of her throat turned open mouthed and she almost dropped her pen as her body sparked in response.   
“You’re making it kind of hard to concentrate.”   
“Means I’m doin’ it right.”   
”Damon.” She’d meant it as an admonishment, but as he sucked a spot behind her ear it came out more of a gasp.   
“Cliff notes version.” He murmured against her ear as his hands ran down her sides. “You play by my rules and I play by yours.” His hand snaked across her midriff under her shirt and she shivered as she felt his warm breath against her ear again. “Don’t leave any marks. I won’t leave any on you.” He sucked gently on a spot on her neck that made her toes curl. “Well, not unless you ask nicely.” His tongue teased against her skin as a thumb teased over her nipple. “I’m screened weekly. Your file says you’re on birth control, so if you agree to avoid risky sex, then condoms or skin - it’s down to you.” He palmed her breast firmly but achingly slowly just as he sucked her earlobe and when she felt teeth, her hips lurched of their own volition. “Other than that, it’s pretty simple. You book me:…” - A gentle twist of her nipple that was just the right side on painful and had her gasping - “And I’m yours. Any questions?” She shook her head. “Then why don’t we start by you telling me exactly what you want me to do to you tonight.”

Right now, all Bonnie wanted was for him to keep touching her. He managed to make even the most fleeting touches feel electric, but she forced herself to engage her brain just a little. She wasn’t sure she was ready to sleep with him just yet – well, obviously she _wanted_ to, but she needed to give herself time to adjust to the idea of having paid sex (she knew there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy it – not with him - but she didn’t want to regret anything in the morning). Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty of other options. In fact, there was one thing in particular that he’d said during their steamy phonecall in New York that just kept playing over and over in her mind.   
_My head between your thighs_   
_Get a taste of you_   
_Bet you taste like syrup and cinnamon_   
“I… Could you…” Bonnie couldn’t get the words out, embarrassed to give voice to her desires.   
“Tell me.” She inhaled sharply as his teeth grazed her neck.   
“Eat me out.” The words came out in an unbroken rush of need, and she was embarrassed by her own vulgarity. “Please.”  
  
“Here?”   
She shook her head, his lips dragging over her throat as she did.   
“Bedroom.” She managed to grate out. Before she could blink, he had scooped her up in his arms. His nose brushed hers and she felt his breath warm on her lips, his eyes burned into hers, but as he moved to kiss her she pulled back. “Can we…” Her voice was breathy and lustful. “I know it’s dumb, but can you not kiss me on the mouth? I just want some way to keep this-”   
“You don’t have to explain.” He murmured. “Yours, remember?”   
His eyes roved her face, waiting for her signal to carry on. At her shallow nod of understanding, he carried her through to the bedroom.

As he set her down on the bed, laying over her with his mouth roving hungrily over her neck, Bonnie’s brain was a cacophony of thoughts clamouring for her attention.   
The old favourite: _Oh god, it's really happening._   
Insecurity: _Suck in stomach. Stick out chest. Should I ask him to turn out the light?_   
Cynicism : _He doesn’t care. Probably thinking about getting his tyres changed or something._   
Hedonism: _You’re about to have a gorgeous man between your legs – shut up!_

Yes, her train of thought had well and truly derailed, but all that noise in her head faded to the thudding of her heartbeat as she was pulled into the present by Damon’s hard body sliding down hers and a hand brushing up her thigh, drawing her skirt with it. He settled onto his knees and she inhaled sharply when she felt his lips on her thigh as his thumbs hooked under the waistband of her underwear. She lifted her hips for him to remove them, and he slid them down slowly, his hands dragging against her skin as his mouth moved at the speed of molasses up towards her sex, hooking her legs over his shoulders. She had thought he would continue the tentative touches, but while the first pass of his tongue maintained his languid pace, it was a firm press that ran the full length of her and took her completely by surprise, and the force of it on her eager flesh sent her hips bucking off the bed of their own volition. She thought she might have felt the huff of a laugh as his hand splayed over her stomach to hold her in place and he started his task in earnest. Suddenly, she was glad for his arm restraining her. He clearly took her instruction literally – this wasn’t just oral sex, it was like he was literally _devouring_ her. As fast as she could feel herself flooding at his intense attentions, he was lapping her up. He would run his tongue over her folds in broad strokes, tapering as he reached her clit and circling it. She bit her lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but occasionally one would slip out, and more than once she felt (not heard, _felt_ ) him moan against her in response, like he couldn’t get enough of her pleasure, and that just made her body react more strongly. His rhythm was _flawless,_ and as Bonnie felt his attentions focus in more tightly on her clit and speed up, she turned her head into the pillow to swallow her reaction. She was embarrassingly close and it felt like it had barely been a few minutes. She was just thinking she should do something to stave off her release so this could last longer when his mouth closed over her clit and _sucked_. Her orgasm tore through her completely out of the blue. She almost screamed with the force of it and he didn’t let up at all throughout. It was one of the most powerful orgasms of her life. He eased her back down with gentling attentions, and she let out a satisfied laugh.

“That was….Amazing.” She breathed out. “But what are we gonna do for the next what, 50 minutes?”   
He didn’t respond, instead he kept teasing at her gently with his tongue. She thought that somehow he didn’t notice that she had come, but then why would he ease off? She was trying to think how to broach the subject and looked down to get his attention to see him looking up at her with a look that was pure sin. Just when her eyes met his, she felt him smirk against her as two fingers brushed at her entrance. Sensitive from her orgasm, the touch was almost too much, and when he pressed them into her and dragged them down in a slow curl against her front wall, his tongue applying a gentle pressure she could barely stand against her clit, she let out a choked gasp. He repeated the motion and her oversensitive body made its objection known with a convulsion. Undeterred, he kept repeating it until she felt it move from barely tolerable to heavenly, a warmth coiling in the pit of her stomach as he built her back up. She threw her head back and when his tongue flickered against her clit, she moaned his name, which he rewarded with a hum that she felt resonate through her whole body. His fingers continued their rhythmic curl against her g-spot until her breathing sped to the point where she knew she was close again, and then he started moving them in a walking motion like he had described over the phone, and that warmth in her erupted in a second orgasm that had her making a strangled cry that sounded barely human. _Wow._

But again, he slowed, but didn’t retreat, instead swapping so his fingers were now rubbing her clit while his tongue lapped at her folds, occasionally dipping inside her in an x-rated French kiss. It was too much and not enough all at once, and her hands found their way into his hair - not sure if she meant to pull him in closer or push him away, she settled for scrunching and pulling it. He seemed to approve of this development and pressed into her harder, causing her thighs to squeeze at him. _How can he even breathe!? It’s like he’s not even human._ If her first orgasm was clitoral, and her second was her G-spot, the third was some kind of evil combination of both that had her legs shaking and her whole body tensing. His name was pretty much the only word she could remember (well, that, “ _fuck”, “oh my god”,_ and “ _please”)_.

When he didn’t let up after that, there were tears in her eyes and her fingers unclenched from his hair to wrap her arms over her head as her vision narrowed, and her lungs burned as they tried in vain to pull in enough air. Her body wasn’t hers anymore – she wasn’t Bonnie, she was nothing but pure, unrelenting pleasure. More than once she wondered how much the human body could take before it gave in, but somehow he always knew just how to switch up what he was doing to stop it traversing the line between pleasure and pain. She knew now why they called an orgasm a ‘little death’ – the term clearly didn’t apply to the first orgasm or the second, but to the fourth. Was it the fourth? Maybe the fifth? A couple had been so close together she wasn’t entirely sure, and she was too far gone to care. When Bonnie came again, she felt limp and numb, and afterwards she fell back boneless against the pillows, fairly certain that a feather could land on her and it would be too much for her overwrought body to handle. She was distantly aware of Damon finally relenting as he pulled back. He disappeared from view for a second (probably cleaning up). When he returned, he looked unfairly composed compared to the blissed-out wreck she was, brushing his thumb along his lip as if still wiping her excitement from his face.   
“Same time next week?” He winked and closed the door, and she heard the front door open and close as he left her to pick up the pieces he had shattered her into.


	5. Chapter 5

For the second time since they met, Bonnie found herself cursing the day Damon was born. Last night had been... Well, mind-blowing didn't cut it. Damon had made her feel the kind of ecstasy they wrote about in Caroline's trashy novels - the kind she had always assumed was pure fiction, but evidently not. When Bonnie came, if it was with a guy, they would consider their job done, and by herself she would be so sensitive afterwards she wouldn't dream of going again. She'd once managed a second, though it hadn't felt half as good as the first. She hadn't even thought her body was capable of enjoying two, let alone five. _Five_.

So why was she pissed at him? Well, as she was swiftly learning, her body _wasn't_ coping. At all. She had come into work to finish off some important files she had been too distracted to get done on Friday, and was regretting it immensely. It was as if she had spent their hour running stairs from where her legs had spent so long tensed up, and they felt like jello - Vaguely painful jello. Her core was aching from being racked with spasms. Her voice was hoarse from the mortifying sounds he had drawn out of her (thought thankfully she could only remember actually screaming once). Her channel was super sensitive from where his fingers (and tongue) had worked their magic inside her over and over. To top it all off, her poor clit felt like it chafed even against light cotton panties, but if she went without every movement of air felt like too much.   
_Kill me now._   
She had struggled through the day, drudging though paperwork that seemed endless, but it was impossible to concentrate when every tiny movement made her feel him all over again. It was awful: Distracting, uncomfortable... And she would never admit she kind of loved it. 

It was just coming up to lunchtime and she was looking forward to an iced latte to cool her throat and caffeinate her body when her phone rang. She groaned - today was not her day. It wasn't a number she had saved, but she often gave out her cell at business functions, so that didn't mean anything. She was debating letting it go to voicemail, but her sense of duty won out.   
"Hello?"   
"Well you sound a little more coherent today."   
If it wasn't the source of her suffering himself.   
"Damon? I so can't be dealing with you right now."   
"I ask you: Is that any way to greet the man who tongue-fucked you into oblivion last night? Didn't you have fun? I had fun."   
She could hear the sounds of bustling city life behind him – he obviously had no qualms being that explicit in public, and she could imagine the shocked looks of passers-by. Bonnie rolled her eyes. He knew she did. _Smug bastard._ She could say it was 'alright' and bait him, but honestly she didn't have the energy, and who was she fooling?   
"It was unbelievable. NEVER do it again."   
She heard him chuckle and it was a lovely, warm sound that usually would have made her stomach flip, but at the moment, just made her kind of queasy.   
"Feeling it a little today, huh?"   
"Everything hurts and I hate you."   
Another laugh.   
"Okay, so I'll admit I may have gone a tad overboard last night."   
"How are you even talking? How do you not have lockjaw?"   
"C'mon, you can't blame me for wanting to make an impression. You know a massage would probably make you feel a whole lot better."   
"Touch me and die."   
"Still gonna feel that way on Friday?" Ah, so that's why he was calling - to see if she was still up for making this a regular thing. When she didn't reply right away he added. "Promise I'll be gentle." -somehow making even that sound filthy. She gave it a few seconds’ thought…   
_Fuck it._ "I guess we'll find out on Friday."   
She could've sworn she heard his smile.   
"Well, you have my number now. If you want to talk about what you might want to do on Friday, or if you want to just say 'hi', you can drop me a text. I won't always reply right away, but I will reply."   
Her mind was already thinking about it unbidden, though her body was still fully rejecting the idea. Something struck her as odd though.   
"Do you do that for all your clients? Give them your number?"   
"No."   
"Then why do it for me?"   
"You seem like the kind of person that needs a connection with someone they're intimate with. Or at least that prefers it that way. I want you to have that with me."   
He wasn't wrong, but she still didn't feel right about it.   
"I do, but... You don't have to do that. It's not..."   
"Flirting with a beautiful woman? Such a chore, how ever will I manage?" Bonnie smiled. "I gotta go. Time to go play doctor." She was a little shocked at his candidness, before he added. "Not the fun kind sadly, just weekly screening. The loyalty scheme is pretty good though, I'm one visit away from a free nurse’s uniform."   
Bonnie's laugh made her tender stomach ache, but the hilarious visual was worth it.   
"Bye, Damon."   
"Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me."   
She stared at the phone exasperated for a second after he hung up, but the smile crept back on her face when she went to save his number.

\---

Damon leaned up against the glass of the building and ran a hand through his hair. It was like he had taken one look at this girl and took a sledgehammer to every standard and rule he set for himself.

Last night was a colossal fuck up from start to finish. She had been nervous - that was nothing new: Practically every first time client was nervous. What _was_ new was the seriously unwelcome reaction he had to it. Firstly, he had a fierce desire to protect her. Like, some serious knight-in-shining-armour shit he wanted no part of - he didn't just get her over it so they could move on to the fun part, he wanted to reassure her, _comfort_ her. Seriously, fuck that. And second of all, watching her overcome it and start making jokes? That little flush of curiosity that crept into her skin when she found out he slept with men? Way hotter than it had any right to be. Then the no-kissing thing. He'd had weirder requests, so why did it get to him so much? It made him crazy, made him want to kiss her senseless, want to taste every millimetre of her mouth until she was dizzy and breathless, and he _couldn't_.

He wasn't supposed to think like that about a client.

  
Ever. 

And that was just the litany of failures _before_ they got into the bedroom. He'd been thinking about it non-stop ever since. What the hell got into him? Her instruction was pretty vague, sure, but he'd had far worse ("Um can you just, I don't know, make me feel good?", "I don't know, can't we just do it the normal way?" etc). 'Eat me out' - Nowhere in it did she say ‘ _oh, and make me come like a freight train over and over until I don't know up from down’_. But those noises she made just made him _rabid_ : They weren't the over the top, porn star emulating screams he saw day in day out from women who seemed to think louder was better, or the quiet enjoyment of the women who just weren't naturally vocal... She’d fought hard against every single sound he dragged out of her and it made him crazy, so he’d fought back, ripping all the pleasure he could out of her regardless of whether her body could handle it. Christ, he was salivating just thinking about it. He'd been hard as diamonds throughout, only just noticing their whole hour had somehow passed him by, and barely kept it together as he left (still managing to affect an air of nonchalance, because again he knew it would push her buttons, and the second best thing after wringing those sounds out of her was earning that self-righteous judgy look she gave him).

Then today, he gets her number out of Ginger (he now owes her an undisclosed favour, and isn't that a terrifying prospect?) with the intention of doing some damage control, and in a momentary lapse of sanity he decides to call her on his cell. Never in his career has he given a client his number. Hell, he never even used to give it to the women he slept with pre-whoring. But no, this time he not only slips up, but actively points out she now has his number, _and encourages her to use it_.   
And now he's looking at his phone, wondering if it would look too eager if he texted her first.   
It was official: He was utterly screwed. 

\---

Sunday:   
_B: I’ve been trying since yesterday to think of something cute to say to open up the conversation and I’ve got nothing_   
_D: Ooh I’m good at this. Go with an either/or - Something snappy but sexy_   
_B: Like what? Gimme a ‘for instance’_   
_D: Sweet or salty?_   
_B: Wow, good one_   
_D: You can’t leave me hanging though_   
_B: Mmm… I like salty_   
_D: Literally killing me right now_   
_B: ;)_   
_D: So in other news, I actually watched a guy pick up a date at the clinic yesterday_   
_B: Maybe she was just there for a check-up like you?_   
_D: She had her prescription in her hand when they were talking_   
_B: You’re kidding_   
_D: Tempted to stalk their date and see if he takes her home after_   
_B: Stake-outs are always done in pairs on TV_   
_D: Come with me - we can fondle under the table ;)_   
_B: Yeah, because last time you were between my legs was real subtle._   
_D: Speaking of, any thoughts about what I might be doing between those delicious legs on Friday?_   
_[no answer – an hour later…]_   
_D: Decisive. I love a woman who takes charge._   
_B: Shut up_   
_B: Is it totally lame if I just want you to go down on me again?_   
_B: But without trying to send me into cardiac arrest this time_   
_D: Nothing is lame if it makes you feel good_   
_D: But now I’m paranoid you’re just asking for oral because it’s the only way to shut me up_   
_B: It’s a contributing factor_   
_D: So taking it down a notch, anything else you want to do different?_   
_B: Less clothes. Definitely._   
_D: Amen to that_   
_B: I meant you_   
_D: Spoilsport_

Tuesday:   
_D: Been thinking about Friday_   
_D: Are you open to suggestions?_   
_B: Depends on the suggestion_   
_D: So last time you came like four times and it was too much, right?_   
_B: Five_   
_D: Was it five??_   
_B: It was_   
_D: Damn_   
_B: Were you making a point?_   
_D: So five was too many. What if we stick to one, but make it a damn good one?_   
_B: Explain_   
_D: You’re way too much of a goody two shoes to have heard of edging, but I’m pretty sure you can google it without being scarred for life_   
_[short pause and some googling]_   
_B: For the whole hour?!_   
_D: You’ll be wishing I was dead for most of it, but that’s nothing new, right?_   
_D: You don’t have to answer right away – just think about it_   
_D: Gotta go – duty calls._

Friday morning:   
B: Okay   
_D: Okay what?_   
_B: To what you suggested_   
_B: See you at 9?_   
_D: Can’t wait_

\---

Bonnie found herself watching the door again in anticipation of Damon's arrival, but instead of the gut-clenching anxiety she had felt last week, she had butterflies in her stomach for a completely different reason. They had sent a bunch of flirty messages to one another through the week, which made it feel less like she was using him as a sex toy, and more like a date where you skipped to the good part because you couldn't keep your hands off each other. They had also discussed what they would be doing together tonight, and Bonnie would be lying if she said she wasn't totally crazy about the idea of Damon's sinful tongue and talented fingers taking their time with her. She still wasn't sure if she was ready to allow herself to have sex with him. Part of her was dying to, of course, but the last thing she wanted was for that little voice in her head that said it was wrong to sully the experience. Anyway, she was satisfied with what he could do without crossing that line.

  
Very, very satisfied.  
His knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts, and she rushed to open it, intent on greeting him this time with the warm smile and enthusiasm of someone meeting a friend. 

  
(A friend who was going to have her on her back and screaming inside of twenty minutes, but a friend nonetheless).

"Hi... oh" Bonnie was caught off guard when - like last time - he went in for a kiss, only heeding the moratorium on her lips, he aimed it at the hollow of her throat, which elicited a little gasp of surprise followed by a rush of warmth under her skin (because it was impossible for physical contact with Damon not to have that effect). He pulled back up, his face a hair's breadth from hers as he responded.   
"Hi."   
He was so close that his breath mingled with hers, and she could faintly taste mint and something unfamiliar that had to be a hint of him. Combined with the tingling all over her body from that kiss, and his eyes that she was fairly sure were mildly hypnotic, the effect was... Something.   
Something that made the concept of treating him like a 'friend' laughable. Because friends do not have that kind of effect on you. Hell, _meteors_ usually don't have that much of an impact.   
"So, hypothetically, what's the bare minimum amount of small talk?"   
He brought up his hand and ran his thumb along her lower lip, eyes that still blazing into hers with lustful promise only tempered slightly by the playful smirk on his lips.   
"I think we surpassed that with 'hi'."   
He kicked the door shut without a backwards glance, dumping the briefcase that still had her curiosity piqued as his lips went back to her neck and his hands snaked around her back and down. He gave a playful squeeze before hoisting her up as if she weighed nothing at all, her arms automatically linking behind his neck and her legs locked tight around his waist, pushing up the fabric of her loose black dress to pool at her waist. His body heat leeched tantalisingly though his thin shirt as he carried her - attention never deviating from her neck - through to the bedroom. Secure in his hold, she ventured a hand down between their chests to start working at his buttons, desperate to feel more of him

Every button undone exposed a stretch of perfect skin. The man looked delicious in a suit, but as she was quickly being reminded, he looked frankly impossibly good out of one. She had only reached about the middle of his shirt by the time they reached the bedroom and he set her down. She was just lamenting that she hadn't gotten further when he pulled his cuffs down over his hands before pulling both shirt and jacket over his head in one swift movement and throwing the expensive garments carelessly to the floor. Bonnie's mind went blank at the newly revealed expanse of golden skin and tight muscle and all she wanted to do was _touch_. Her hands were on him of their own volition, exploring the warm planes and hard ridges of his body. It wasn't until they ventured lower than his navel and she caught a tiny hitch in his breathing that she even consciously realised what she was doing. Her hands reflexively went to snap back, but he caught them and put them back on his body - inviting her to drink her fill as he kicked off his shoes. 

Damon's hands went to his waistband and he raised an eyebrow in question, to which she nodded. She wanted to see and feel as much of him as possible without breaking her resolve. He undid his pants and slid them off along with his socks before slowly easing himself over her, Bonnie's body automatically yielding to his as he laid her back, all warm velvet skin and electricity. Instead of just settling between her legs, he pressed right into her as his lips returned to her skin - chest against her chest, his thigh pressed right up against her core in a way that made her gasp and squeeze around him. It felt like he was everywhere as he slowly made his way down her body. He paused at her breast, mouthing her through her dress. His arm slid behind her, pulling her up harder into his mouth as he licked and teased and sucked, until the fabric was sodden, allthewhile rocking his knee against her underwear. When he switched to the other breast, Bonnie squeezed down hard against his leg, desperate to increase the friction to match the intensity of the ecstasy he was creating at her breast, but he made it clear he wouldn't be rushed. 

Only once he had her breathless and rutting against him like an animal in heat did he move down (in spite of her crushing thighs' best efforts to keep him on top of her), pausing only to run his tongue along the hollow of her hip bone, eliciting a shudder. When he settled onto his knees on the floor, she braced herself for that onslaught of rapture she had come to associate with his tongue, and was mildly shocked when her anticipation was met only with kisses on the inside of her thigh - kisses that started delicate and brief, slowly becoming insistent and filthy, with nibbles of teeth that made her eyes roll back. He was high enough on the inside of her leg that she could feel his breath and movement against her sex (already slicked with arousal), but maddeningly he showed no signs of putting his mouth where she so desperately wanted it. She tried to urge him there with a rock of her hips or a shift of her thigh, but he responded by holding her down tighter. It was killing her.

When he finally acceded to her wordless pleading, it was with one, languid, firm lick that dipped into her before flicking out at her clit, and it had her back arching up off the bed, her hand buried in his hair, and obscenities pouring from her mouth. In stark contrast to the last time, where his ferocity and fervour had almost broken her, this time his exploration of her was slow and tantalising. After that first stroke, he purposefully avoided her clit, instead using his mouth to work her into a frenzy by lavishing his attentions on her folds, delving into her with the occasional motion that felt like the naughtiest of kisses. His pressure varied from the barest hint of contact to delirium-inducing hunger for her. When he worked her harder, her fingers would tighten and twist in his hair, drawing a moan from him that she could feel through her whole body.

Startlingly quickly Damon had brought her to the point where she was right on the edge staring down the barrel of her orgasm... 

  
And he held her there. 

  
Seconds passed, then minutes; the whole time, her breathing was harsh with sharp anticipation for her climax, her skin was tingling, her muscles were trembling, her pleasure centres were sparking like they were in overload. Just when she thought it couldn't possibly get better, he would flick his tongue up to barely brush her clit and she would have to turn her head and bite the pillow to avoid screaming, but it still wasn't enough to send her over. Just when she felt like she might pass out, he would ease back and she didn't know whether she wanted to thank him or kill him (not that she was capable of either right now), but he would only give her a few moments' respite before building her pleasure back up brick by tantalising brick. The second time, it was frustratingly good, but by the eighth it felt like the best/worst kind of torture. Her body burned with the need for release and she had long since abandoned the delusion that she would get through this without begging. Bonnie licked her lips, which were dry from the ragged breaths she had dragged between them, and when her voice came out, it was so husky and desperate, it was scarcely recognisable.

  
"Damon. P-please." No response. Not even an acknowledgement he had heard her. "Please." His tongue twisted inside her in a way that frankly felt obscene. "I can't... Oh f-fuck!" Was that his _teeth_ on her clit?!   
Languid, elegant fingers replaced his tongue, and she clamped down on them involuntarily as they slid languorously inside her dripping centre, but he was still close enough that she could _feel_ him licking her juices off of his lips. She dared to look down at him and instantly regretted it: His hair was beautifully disheveled from the raking of her fingers, his lips were pink and swollen from pleasing her, and his eyes were black pools of lust, with barely a slender ring of ice blue framing them. He looked like sex incarnate.   
"Sorry, I was busy. D’you want something?" He chose that moment to scissor his fingers before walking them against her g-spot, making her eyes roll back. She could see him trying not to laugh. _Arrogant prick_.   
"N-need to come."  
"You will. In..." (the asshole actually _checked his watch_ ) "Seventeen minutes."

  
 _Seventeen minutes?_ She didn't think she could take seventeen more _seconds_.   
"No..."  
"'No'?" He feigned a lack of understanding. "So you _don't_ want to come?"  
She _really_ wanted to kill him right now.   
"Please." His fingers were still playing her like an instrument and his thumb was resting so it was barely touching her clit. "God, Damon. C-can't take it. _Please_."  
"Hmm." He feigned consideration, which might have reinvigorated her desire to knee him in the face if he didn't time it with a slight flutter of his thumb at her clit. "Well, I guess since you asked so nicely..."  
His thumb pressed down hard and dragged over her clit as it was replaced by his mouth, tongue swirling around her clit as his fingers curled determinedly against her g-spot. The world stopped for two full heartbeats before exploding in a white-hot shower of pure ecstasy as her orgasm hit her with the force of a bullet.   
"Oh SHIT... fuck, Damon... oh GOD!..."  
Her whole body tensed and quaked with the force of it and she screamed (an honest to God scream - she had always thought any woman who full-on screamed was definitely faking it, but apparently it was an actual thing). Damon worked her through it, dragging out her pleasure as long as possible (which, evidently, was a solid minute or more). 

When she finally came back down, she was completely spent. It wasn't like last time where every fibre of her being was numb, but there was a pleasant tingling all over that made her feel perfectly sated. She cast a glance down at the end of the bed to see Damon wiping his mouth and fingers on a handkerchief (who even has handkerchiefs anymore?), which he tucked back in his discarded jacket before turning back to her, smiling before climbing back up the bed next to her.   
"What're you doing?" Her voice was still annoyingly breathy.   
"Cuddling is included in the retail price." He quipped before wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing a kiss into her shoulder. It felt pretty damn good, but she wasn't about to tell him that.  
"Didn't think you were the type."   
"Then maybe you ought to get to know me a little better. I happen to be an expert."   
She breathed a laugh, settling back into his warmth, when she felt an unmistakable firmness at her backside that had her eyes shooting open.   
He was hard.   
_Well that was unexpected._   
"Are you... Do you want to...?" She turned towards him and gestured downward with her eyes, praying he wasn't going to make her say it out loud.   
He didn't. Instead, he shook his head. 

  
"This isn't about me."  
"I know, it's just..." She didn't quite know how to finish that sentence.  
"I’m guessing you're that infuriating kind of person who's always thinking about what everyone else needs. I'm here for you, not me." He nuzzled into her neck and she let out a little 'hmm' of contentment. "Think of it as the one hour a week where you get to be selfish."  
"So you won't... Ever? With me?"   
"If it's something you ask for, like that first night at the club. Or if I happen to be close, and the timing's good, I'll ask, but if you say 'No', then I won't."  
Bonnie wasn't sure how she felt about that. She had had plenty of sexual experiences where the guy was so busy seeking his own pleasure that hers was completely ignored, but in some ways the reverse was equally unappealing. She thought back to the private room at the club where she had watched him - how his body had looked like it was made for it, how his face had looked all scrunched up in pleasure, the way he had said her name... She couldn't imagine why anyone would turn down the opportunity to see that.   
"Can I ask you something?"   
"Shoot."  
"I didn't... do anything to you. So how come you're so...?"  
She felt him smile against her neck. 

  
"A couple minutes ago you were swearing like a sailor and now you can't say 'hard'?"   
She rolled her eyes.   
"Fine. How come you're so _hard_?"   
"There was a gorgeous girl with her thighs clamped around my head begging and literally screaming my name?" He said it like he couldn't understand why this was even a question.   
Bonnie tried (and failed) to ignore the 'gorgeous' part of that comment.  
"And...?"  
"And I'm a red blooded guy, that shit is hot." He said it again like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled back from her neck to meet her eye, and she could see the moment it clicked. "You're telling me no guy ever just took pleasure in you getting yours?" She shook her head. "Wow, men suck. No wonder I'm so busy." She smiled and gave him a playful slap on the hand, which he responded to by simply holding her tighter.

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, Bonnie feeling a contentment she hadn't felt in years. She hadn't been just _held_ in so long with no expectation. Her limbs felt heavy and she was just drifting off when she felt his watch vibrate. Given that he heaved in a sigh before squeezing her tight and leaving the bed, she guessed must be his alarm that the session had ended. She was struck by a sudden regret that he had to leave, irrationally wishing she could stay in his arms until she fell asleep. She cast the thought from her head as she tried (and failed) not to watch him get dressed - he was here for a job, nothing else. No good could come from that line of thinking. 

Now clothed, but looking pleasantly dishevelled, Damon threw his rumpled jacket over his shoulder and headed for the door. She couldn't stop herself from speaking.   
"I wouldn't, you know." He turned back to her and raised an eyebrow. "Say 'No'." She clarified. "If we were together and you wanted to... It's always 'Yes'. You don't have to ask."   
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.   
"Yeah. I do. But... Thanks. Sleep tight, okay?"   
"Bye, Damon."   
She barely heard the front door clock before she fell into a satisfied slumber. 

\--- 

Damon carelessly chucked his stuff in the car, climbed in, signalled to the driver it was ok to head off, and threw his head back against the headrest. His brain was a clusterfuck of emotions right now. Equal parts satisfaction and frustration, pride in a job well done and a little regret that it was a job at all, wrapped up in a primal desire (the intensity of which scared him a little), and warm fuzzy feelings he definitely wasn't supposed to be having. 

Objectively, things had gone way, _way_ better than last time. Even from the start, Bonnie was a far cry from the shrinking violet that had greeted him at the door the week before. And the session itself had been...   
Well, it had been perfect, if he did say so himself. It had the balance that was lacking from their last encounter: He'd left her satiated, but not half-dead. A far better time than she could've gotten from a hook-up, but not so explosively intense she would be burned out for days. And hopefully just holding back enough to leave her wanting more. 

However, she still seemed to have the infuriating ability to tip his world on its axis. If he found her uppity demeanour endearing, her desire was downright _addictive_. Taking her from prim and judgy to wanton and vulgar was his new favourite hobby, and knowing she both resented and revelled in the loss of control made it all the sweeter. And Jesus, the way she had begged him tonight, moaned his name all breathy and desperate... Just thinking about it had his pants getting tighter. Hell, he could still feel the ghost of her fingers gripping his hair. He had so wanted to drag her out for the full hour, but frankly even if she could've taken it, he didn't think _he_ could. His cock had been throbbing and weeping in response to those unfairly beautiful sounds she had made, and more than once he had caught himself rutting against his own leg in his desperation for friction. 

The icing on the cake, though, had been what followed: After she had gotten over her disbelief that he could possibly have gotten anything out of giving her a good time (which was wrong on so many levels; he was still kind of pissed about it), when he had just held her. He never usually went in for the 'cuddling' thing, but most of his clients wanted to be held after. With Bonnie, though, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to touch more of that ludicrously soft skin (it might be slightly delusional, but he liked to think he could still smell her unique cocoa-butter-and-cinnamon scent on him now. He'd go to bed wearing it and hope some echo of it lingered on his sheets). His mood had been soured a little when he'd had to remind her she was a paying customer, and not obliged to reciprocate. It had been kind of sweet, and he tried not to think about how tempted he'd been to take her up on it... But it was in both their interests to stick to at least some boundaries (especially after last time, when the lines had blurred a little too much for comfort). Still, he dealt in fantasy, and that was a little too strong a dose of reality for his liking, but it would take more than that to kill his buzz from tonight.

Underscoring the whole evening was the infuriating revelation that he still hadn't figured her out. Normally he had a woman sussed within seconds of meeting her but every time he thought he had Bonnie's number, she threw him a curveball. That first night at the club, it had been how she denied herself even as her whole body was screaming to touch (who even did that?!). Then just as he was thinking she was a lost cause, Little Miss Tightly-Wound had called him for phone sex. _Okay, so we're repressed but working on it._ Their first appointment comes along and she pulls this whole 'no kissing' card (that by the way, is still driving him completely insane, because she has the most kissable, biteable lips in this hemisphere and they're _right there_ ). Sure, so she wants to keep things professional: He can do that (mostly). But now she's fine with him getting his rocks off when he's with her? _Come on, now you're just messing with me_. 

And that's all without mentioning the elephant in the room: Why no sex? 

It was abundantly clear that was what she wanted. Even if it wasn't implicit in the way her legs tightened around him when he ventured south, the barely contained hunger when she looked at his body spoke volumes. If she wanted him to go down on her once a week like clockwork until he retired then he'd happily oblige, but the fact that she so obviously wanted more made it feel absurdly like she was holding out to punish him (it would be laughable for him to deny it was what he wanted, too). 

She was a puzzle, and he kind of loved that. 

One week until he saw her again: A week of boring clients he would have figured out inside of a minute.   
He'd be counting the hours. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
_D: I need a new gym_  
_B: Why?_  
_D: Ran into a client_  
_D: She was there with her husband_  
_B: #awkward_  
_D: That's not the worst part_  
_D: She had ZERO CHILL - it was super obvious_  
_B: So her husband knows??_  
_D: That I slept with her? 100%. That she paid me? Probably not._  
_D: Guy literally doesn't have a neck - he could snap me in half_  
_D: I need a witness protection gym_  
_B: Well you can't go to mine. If you ran into me post-workout I think I'd die of embarrassment_  
_D: Sounds like you just need more interesting ways to work up a sweat_  
_D: I have some suggestions ;)_  
_B: I bet you do_  
_D: Speaking of, what are we doing this Friday?_  
_B: I've been thinking about that_  
_B: What was the fancy word for dry-humping again?_  
_D: Frottage?_  
_B: Yeah. Is it weird if I want that?_  
_D: I once had a client who painted us head to toe and then we screwed on a canvas_  
_D: She hung the painting in her dining room_  
_D: I have long since redefined 'weird'_  
_D: (So no)_  
_B: What did the painting look like?_  
_D: I had paint in places no man should have paint, and that's your question?_  
_D: Smudgy I guess?_  
_B: So descriptive - It's like you're an art critic_  
_D: I'm gonna be a chalk outline if no-neck guy finds me_  
_B: You're still not joining my gym_

\---

Bonnie opened the door with a flutter of anticipation.  
"Excuse me, miss. Can you spare a moment to talk about your immortal soul?"  
Damon - wearing a more casual version of his usual attire (still a suit, but with a plain black tee and the jacket slung over one shoulder) - delivered the line with deadpan seriousness, but his facade broke into a smile when Bonnie collapsed into fits of giggles.  
"What the actual fuck?"  
"My bad, my sexy Mormon roleplay lady is Tuesday."  
"I'm afraid to ask if you're joking."  
"Smart woman."  
He dropped his jacket to the floor and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, eliciting a squeal from Bonnie and kicking the door shut as he turned and headed for the bedroom.  
"What has gotten into you today?"  
"You probably don't want to hear the answer to _that_ either."  
Bonnie laughed. She had had a kind of 'meh' week and this lightness was exactly what she needed. She let out another little squeal as he righted her, but it quickly turned from a sound of surprise into one of desire as instead of placing her feet on the floor, he wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed against her into the wall, lips hot on her neck and body firm against hers. Bonnie felt his hand snake up her top and cup her breast, which was when she realised that even though his other hand had a pretty firm grip on her ass, he was pretty much holding her weight entirely on his abs. His thumb brushed her nipple and her hips bucked against him, but he held her fast. All she could feel was unyielding muscle, and it drove her crazy knowing what she might feel if she were resting a few inches lower.

She had to get her hands on _something_ , so she hooked her fingers under the hem of his t-shirt. He took the hint instantly and leaned back, pulling the offending item over his head and throwing it to the floor. She didn't have time to appreciate the view though, as her shirt quickly joined his on the floor, and she was suddenly acutely aware this was the first time he'd ever seen her with her shirt off. Her flash of low self-esteem was soon buried in an avalanche of sensation as he returned his lips and hands to her skin. He hoisted her up higher so that her chest was level with his face, maintaining eye contact as he closed his mouth around her nipple and sucked. He laved it with his tongue and grazed it with his teeth until she was squirming. Her breasts had always been sensitive, but where most guys were too rough with them, Damon seemed to know exactly _how_ much was _too_ much. It made her insides feel like they were twisting up and she clamped her thighs around him in desperation. Meanwhile, her other breast was aching for more attention than the gentle kneading of his hand. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth, taking the tip of his thumb inside and wetting it with her tongue. She felt his attentions stutter at her breast and he made a high whining sound that she decided was the most satisfying thing she'd ever heard, flushing slightly as she realised what that must have evoked for him. Her need drowned out any embarrassment though, and she moved his hand down to where she wanted it, shivering in pleasure at the sensation of his wet thumb dragging over her nipple. A low groan escaped Damon when he realised what she was doing.  
"You're killing me, you know that?"  
"You're-ah!" He finally switched, exposing her very sensitive nipple (and still damp) to the air. "You're one to talk." He couldn't have missed her cues to move on, but he was still very, very focused on her breasts. "What're you doing?"  
"Testing a theory"  
Damon's hand closed around the newly-neglected flesh of her breast, palming firmly with her nipple pinched at the centre. Meanwhile, his tongue was working the other with fervour. She felt a feverish warmth under her skin as she ground helplessly against his torso. It was all just barely the right side of 'overstimulating, and when he sucked, she felt a familiar (and yet so very different) sensation catch her off guard. She was pulled taut like an elastic band...  
"What-?"  
And there was the snap.  
She keened as she came, her core tightening reflexively as if desperately seeking the source of her pleasure and not finding it where expected. He was pressed right up against her and everywhere they touched was like it conducted the sparks he had sent through her. It wasn't as intense as her previous orgasms (with him at least), but it definitely was one.  
He had made her come without even having touched her below the waist.  
Damon looked up at her with a pleased and mischievous smirk, obviously enjoying this new discovery. She had heard about coming from breast-play alone, but had chalked it up to urban legend. Then again, if anyone could live up to the legend, it would be Damon.  
"How was that for a 'eureka moment'?"  
Bonnie still wasn't 100% sure if his rampant ego was sexy or infuriating.  
"Not bad." She panted as she caught her breath. "What else you got?"

Unsurprisingly, it turned out there was very little Damon appreciated more than a chance to show off. In seconds, he had her laid out under him on the bed, one hand clasped with hers above her head and pressing into the mattress adding a subtle but effective hint of dominance that her feminist brain wanted to hate, but her body very clearly craved. His bare chest was pressed firmly against hers, grinding against her in a way that managed not to irritate her oversensitive breasts, but with enough movement to evoke that rhythm that made it feel less like making out and more like 'sex lite'. Meanwhile, his mouth had zeroed in on the spot on her neck that made her whole body light up, and his knee pressed in between hers so that when he moved, she got a hit of friction at her centre that made her eyes roll back.  
(Screw sex lite - she had definitely had sex less satisfying than this).

Bonnie was so caught up in what his movements were doing to her body, she almost failed to notice what it was doing to his (not that it was really possible to miss _that_ , but in her defence she was very distracted). The evidence of his arousal pressed against the hollow of her hip elicited a gasp from Bonnie, and suddenly it just wasn't enough to be feeling him through two layers of denim anymore: She needed more stimulation, more skin, just _more._ She was once again thankful for his consistent ability to read exactly what she wanted from her body's reactions when his hand inched between them and flicked open the button of her jeans, easing down her zipper as his hand slid inside. His soft groan against her throat and the way he ground just a little harder into her hip when he felt how she was soaking through her underwear was almost enough to make her throw caution to the wind and just beg him to fuck her, but she just about clung to her resolve. He teased her through her underwear to the point where she was half-feral by the time he finally moved his leg aside to slide her jeans off. Bonnie lifted her hips in unspoken instruction, electricity crackling across her skin where his hands touched. He kissed his way down her body as he went, eliciting little involuntary gasps that made Bonnie flush as he ran his lips against the underside of her breast, pressed then into the hollow of her hip, and brushed them against her inner thigh as he worked the final ruche of fabric over her ankle. He brought a hand to his own fly, raising an eyebrow in question, and Bonnie nodded. Her mouth went dry as she watched his deft fingers work and his pants drop, leaving him in only tight grey boxer-briefs that did nothing to conceal the straining outline of his arousal beneath. When Damon laid back over her, covering her body with his, the sensation of so much of his bare skin moving against hers threatened to overwhelm her. His hand slid between them, nimble fingers slipping into her underwear, and she felt his breath hitch against her neck at the slickness there. She felt him position his thigh between hers once again, and when his fingers finally entered her, they moved with the rhythm of his hips, like he was fucking her with them.

Damon ground against her, his hard body sliding over Bonnie's with intoxicating and single-minded fervour, his fingers twisting inside her and thumb brushing her clit as he moved. Bonnie's body answered his every move instinctively, meeting every motion of his hips with one of her own. She could feel his erection grinding against the hollow of her hips, which only served to feed the flames of desire licking under her skin. Allthewhile Bonnie let her hands drink their fill, roving over Damon's body to map each angle and movement of his muscles. For a time, it was enough to just enjoy the delicious friction between their bodies, but her body soon began to crave release. When his fingers curled against her G-spot in time with a deep kiss against her clavicle, Bonnie keened and her whole body shuddered. She felt the smug asshole smile against her skin, and clenched her thighs around his hand and leg in response, demanding more. Damon didn't deny her, and his fingers curled inside her again. The third time, he timed it with a firm press of his thumb against her clit and she broke apart around him. Damon seemed to drink in the sight and sound of her pleasure, and drew it out so long Bonnie wondered if it would ever come to an end.

When it did, Bonnie became acutely aware of his close scrutiny he had paid and was suddenly overcome with... embarrassment? Shame? She wasn't quite sure what to call it, but something about his attention felt uncomfortably intimate (and wasn't that concept laughable considering his fingers were still inside her?). He obviously sensed something of her anxiety, as it seemed to break the captivation that was holding him, and his enrapt expression turned to one of concern. Her self-consciousness must have been written all over her face. He leaned in so close that for a moment Bonnie's already-pounding heart skipped a beat as she thought he might break her rules and kiss her, but he stopped short.  
"You're stunning when you come, you know that? How you look, the sounds you make..." She gasped involuntarily as he withdrew his fingers from her. He brought them to his mouth and, without breaking eye contact, sucked them clean with a little 'hm' of appreciation. "How you taste." Bonnie felt his hard length twitch at her hip (the fact that was apparently in response to the taste of her made her head swim a little), and suddenly shyness was the last thing she was feeling. She reflexively moved her hip to grind against him and felt him shudder at the friction... So she did it again. His eyes were dark with need when they met hers. "Again - killing me, here." 

Bonnie wasn't sure she was entirely in control of herself when her hand slid down his chest, but she was snapped back to conscious thought when his hand grabbed her wrist just before she delved into his waistband. "Bon, that's not how this goes. You don't have to-"  
"What if I want to?" She cut him off. His expression was... curious, maybe? Like he couldn't figure her out. "This is about what I want, right?"  
Damon seemed to take a moment to consider before slowly releasing his grip, maintaining eye contact as Bonnie's hand slid down his stomach and underneath the fabric, shifting it down with her wrist to free him. She wrapped her hand around the generous girth and gave a first tentative stroke. She felt his hips lift up a little to give her room to move and took that as a signal to keep going. She remembered that first night in Indigo and how he had taken himself in hand more firmly than she would have thought to, and was rewarded with a hitch in his breathing as she squeezed a little tighter. With each pass of her hand, his hesitation eased until his forehead lowered to rest against hers and his hips were moving of their own volition in time with her movement. They were close enough that they were sharing breath, as intimate as a kiss without breaking the rule she had set. His pupils were jet black, rings of ice blue barely visible despite the proximity and intensity of his stare. When his hips stuttered and his eyes fell closed, he breathed her name so close to her lips she could taste it as she felt him rush against her, warm wetness flooding over her stomach. She watched him fall apart with rapt fascination. He was obscenely sexy in general, but there was something beautiful about him when he lost control - more so because she knew she was responsible - _Yeah, I did that_. When he had recovered enough to open his eyes, she fixed his hazy, contented stare with her own, releasing him from her grip and drawing her hand back. Some of his spend was on the heel of her hand and on impulse, she brought her hand up to her mouth and licked it off, mimicking his earlier hum of appreciation at her taste, smirking at the disbelief and desire in his expression.  
"God, are you even real?"

She was trying to get her brain to work long enough to come up with a witty response when she felt the telltale subtle 'buzz'; of his watch vibrating, signalling the end of their time together. It seemed to cut through whatever spell had been over them: The unwelcome reminder he was paid to be there like a punch in the gut to Bonnie. His face slid into a frown as well, and she could have sworn similar emotions played out over his face. He pressed a featherlight kiss to her cheek before drawing back, grabbing a tissue from beside her bed to clean her off gently. The silence between them felt forced, and she could have sworn as he dressed there were a couple of moments he almost said something, but stopped himself at the last second. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his socks, and for a horrible moment, Bonnie thought he might go without saying anything, and she didn't think she'd ever be able to sleep if they left things like this (even if she couldn't put her finger on the reason for his sudden silence).

"Damon?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Next week, can we...?" _Oh come on, Bonnie, you're an adult, just say it._ She sat up next to him. "Would it be okay if we slept together?"  
There was a second where his expression was unreadable, but in an instant it was gone, replaced with a look of faux-shock.  
"You mean," he dropped his voice to a mocking whisper, "go all the way?" Bonnie affected a look of disdain at his mockery and jostled him playfully on the shoulder, unable to keep herself from laughing when a smile broke on his face, relieved at their return to playful banter. "Yeah, somehow I think we can manage that." He gave her a wink and she rolled her eyes. There was a pause where he stayed leaned against her shoulder and she didn't want him to leave, but after a few seconds of threatened silence, he stood and slung his jacket over his shoulder.  
"See you then." She called after him.  
"Can't wait. Something in the way he said it made it sound so real. With a half-smile, he headed down the hall, and she listened to his footsteps until she heard the front door click shut.

\---

To say Damon was angry at himself would be the understatement of the century. He was livid. Seething. And a whole bunch more synonyms he couldn't think of right now because this girl is taking up way too fucking much valuable real-estate in his brain. He'd come with clients before: That wasn't the issue (he's only human, after all), but this was different. If at the crucial moment he's almost there and his client's good with it, that's one thing... but she was done. Finito. He knew - he _knew_ going in that this was pure reciprocation. Worse than that, he had been ready to stop her and he had _let go of her arm_! He should have been extra-cautious given his history of bending the rules with her, but his brain had _not_ been in the drivers' seat. There was just something about the way she looked at him when he had made it clear that he enjoyed making her come that made him savage (and if he ever met the guy responsible for making her ashamed of her own pleasure, the cops would be finding parts of him in canals for a week once Damon was through). He'd told himself at the time that it was what she asked for, and the customer was always right, but if that wasn't pure bullshit, he didn't know what was. He had been selfish, and stupid, and... And he couldn't _wait_ for next week ( _yeah, because that's a healthy thought to have about a client_ ). Seven days never felt longer.

_Screw it, how many more rules do I have left to break, anyway?_


	7. Chapter 7

Tuesday 10pm  
_B:_ _Is it Friday yet?_  
_D: If it is I’m running super late_  
_B: Sorry, I didn’t realise it was even dark out_  
_B: Time has lost all meaning_  
_B: Work is hell. I think I’m mostly espresso-powered at this point_  
_D: Wait, are you telling me you’re still at the office at 10pm?_  
_B: …_  
_D: What the hell, woman?_  
_D: GO HOME!_  
_B: It’s fine, I just need to talk to someone for 3 minutes about something other than debt service coverage ratios_  
_D: I love it when you talk dirty_  
_B: -_-_  
_D: Seriously though, get some rest or a massage or some valium or something – sounds like you need it_  
_B: You’re my ‘or something’, and you’re saying it’s not Friday yet_  
_D: Soon, I promise_  
_D: At least send a minion to get you some food_  
_D: Food, NOT coffee_  
_D: And don’t even think about eating it at your desk_  
_B: Yes, Mom_  
_D: Try not to drown in paperwork – it’ll be Friday soon_  
_B: Promise?_  
_D: Promise_

\---

Bonnie woke up with a start to a knock on her front door. It took her a second to get her bearings – she’d given in and conceded to bringing a bunch of work home, and had apparently fallen asleep at her dining table, surrounded by mountains of folders. She frowned – she hadn’t ordered anything on Amazon, no takeout, Caroline and Elena never dropped by unannounced, so she didn’t know who else would be knocking on her door on a Thursday… she looked out the window to gauge the time… night. Bleary eyed, she dragged herself to the front door and pulled it open. Whoever she might’ve expected to see on the other side, it wasn’t him.  
“Damon? What’re you doing here?”  
(If she had in a million years thought it would be him, she _definitely_ wouldn’t be wearing sweatpants and no makeup)  
“A surprising answer for someone who’s been looking forward to this all week.”  
“What’re you talking about? It’s Thursday – our appointment is _tomorrow_.”  
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Nope, pretty sure today’s Friday.”  
”I’m not an idiot, I know what day of the week it is, Damon. You’re a day early.” He reached across the threshold and dove his hand into her pocket. “What the hell are you-?”  
He pushed the button on the side of her phone and wiggled it in front of her. The screen flared into life, displaying the time, date…. And day. _Friday._ ”See?”  
She closed her eyes and sagged back, pressing her palm to her forehead in the hope she could get things to start making sense again. Unfortunately, it worked, and suddenly things made perfect sense.  
“Oh my god. I must’ve worked through the night and fallen asleep.” She looked at the gorgeous guy on her doorstep, who she was totally unprepared for. “I’m so sorry, I can’t do this right now. I’m a mess. Christ, I don’t even think I’ve shaved my legs since last week…” Tears of frustration and exhaustion welled in her eyes. She was so stressed and tired, she had fucked up the only thing this week she wanted for herself, the only thing she was looking forward to.  
“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s fine.” He rushed forward to comfort her and all she could do was hope she didn’t actually smell as he pulled her in close brushing away her tears of frustration with his thumb. “Listen, sometimes life happens. It’s not a problem.” She tried to smile at him and hoped it didn’t look pathetic with the tears. “Your kitchen still where I left it?"  
“Yeah?” She phrased it as a question, wondering where he was going with this.  
“Well, I’m here now, and Indigo won’t refund you for a last-minute cancellation, so you may as well put me to work.”  
“You don’t have to do that.”  
“When’s the last time you ate something?”  
“Yesterday.” Her stomach made a violent and pointed growl and she winced. As if this needed to be any more embarrassing. “…Morning.”  
“Kinda think I do then.”  
“I’m not sure there’s even anything edible in the kitchen.”  
“My family’s Italian. I can make a good meal out of rocks with the good seasoning. I presume there’s a dining table under there somewhere?” He inclined his head towards her makeshift workspace and she nodded. “Then clear a space and I’ll be out in a few minutes, ‘kay?”  
While she wasn’t keen on the idea of him continuing to see her like this, she was frankly too tired and hungry to argue. She let him disappear into the kitchen and half-sleepwalked to the table to try and find order in her chaos. She might have thought she had dreamed the whole encounter if not for the delicious smell of food coming from the kitchen that made her stomach growl even more voraciously.

After what felt like way too little time to make something that smelled that good, he emerged with a steaming pasta bowl. Somewhere in the past few minutes, he’d lost his blazer and tie, undone a few buttons, and rolled up his shirt sleeves, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He was basically what every woman wished they could come home to after a stressful day, and once again she keenly felt how slobby she was looking. He slid the delicious-smelling plate in front of her.  
“Okay there definitely wasn’t anything in my refrigerator that could make that.”  
”I’m just that good.” At least he didn’t pretend to be modest. “There was pasta, butter, cheese, and pepper – I’ve worked with worse.” He sat down next to her, though he didn’t have a plate of his own.  
“You’re not eating?”  
“Normal people have usually already eaten by 9pm.” He threw back (he had a point). “So what is all this anyways?” He gestured to the felled small forest still taking up most of her table.  
“My company has a ‘bright ideas’ week once a year. Any one of our employees can submit a business proposal of an idea they have. I read them all and choose one which the company funds to take to pilot stage.”  
“How many do you get?”  
”The first year it was only a hundred or so, but this year – just over a thousand, I think?”  
“And you have to read them all?” She nodded. “Jesus, no wonder your brain is fried. Can’t you get someone to filter out the crap before it gets to you?”  
“I never wanted to do that, because everyone deserves to have their voices heard, but I think next year I won’t have much choice.”  
“I get that, but there’s a different between being selfless and being self-destructive. You have to take care of yourself, too.” He wasn’t the first person to say that to her. Maybe he was right. “I’m gonna go run you a bath while you finish up.”  
”Oh god. I knew it. I smell, don’t I?”  
“No, you do not smell.” He sounded amused – she didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. “But I highly doubt I can convince you to get some actual sleep in an actual bed, so you need to at least take 10 minutes to unwind and get away from all this, and frankly if I leave you to do it on your own, I don’t trust you not to fall asleep in the tub and drown yourself.” He hopped up from the chair and headed through to the bathroom, and a few seconds later she heard the water start running.  
Just as she finished eating her meal (which rather unfairly tasted better than almost anything she had ever tried to cook, even with a fully stocked refrigerator), he swept back into the room and took the dish out from in front of her, shooing her in the direction of the bathroom.  
“Why do I get the picture you’re even going to leave the kitchen cleaner than it was before you started?” She said as she stood up.  
”Because I’m amazing. Now get in the damn tub.” He swatted her on the ass with the dish towel for good measure.

The sigh at the sight of the luxurious-looking bubble bath was reflexive. And where the hell did he find candles in her bathroom?! She swiftly stripped off her slouchy around-the-house outfit and tested the water – it was perfectly warm and she eagerly lowered herself in, letting out a moan of pure satisfaction at the near-instant release of tension from her muscles. A couple of minutes later, she heard footsteps approach and a knock on the door.  
“You alive in there?”  
”The Bonnie you are trying to reach is not in service. Please try back later.”  
He huffed a laugh and came in, taking a seat on the floor by the tub.  
“Someone’s feeling better.” Her only response was a sound of pleasure that was almost pornographic. “You need anything?”  
“No. M’good.” She turned her head and looked across at him through lidded eyes. “Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t stay.”  
”Starve to death, probably.” He smirked, but it was cute rather than snarky.  
“You don’t have to stay. I can take it from here.”  
“Yeah?” He didn’t seem convinced.  
“I promise not to drown or anything.”  
“You sure?” He brought his hand up and dipped it just below the surface of the water, tracing his fingers lightly up and down her arm. “Because I feel like you aren’t _relaxed_ enough yet.”  
In case she didn’t get the hint, when she made eye contact, the look he was giving her was pure bedroom. Suddenly the water was feeling much warmer. She bit her lip – ten minutes ago, an orgasm would have just sounded exhausting, but right now she couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted more than Damon’s hands on her (she didn’t think she would be up for anything energetic, but this she could handle). She did feel guilty that he had basically put her life back together in the past hour and now was still offering to get her off, but she was only human, and it would have taken supernatural willpower to say no when he was looking at her like _that_. Her throat was too dry to form words, so she dipped her head to signal her assent.

Damon maintained eye contact as his hand slipped beneath the silky film of bubbles, following the contours of her skin down. The bathroom was almost silent except for the gentle sound of moving water, and the hitch in her breath as his fingers slid along the inside of her thigh echoed in the quiet. His touch was gentle, but also firm and assured, and he built her slowly with teasing strokes flicking up towards her clit. Her eyes fluttered closed as she sank back and just let herself _feel_. He took his time with her, reading the cues of her body to know when she was ready to yield to his fingers, when to add another, when to speed up or press harder. Her moans broke harshly in the silence; she might once have been embarrassed, but not anymore – she was unhindered by inhibition, and surrendered herself to Damon’s talented and deft fingers. He teased her with masterful technique – giving her the uncomplicated relief she could have had by her own hand, but with the reverence and slow crescendo of a devoted lover. By the time she was hovering on the edge, her fingers were gripping the sides of the bath and she was fighting to catch her breath, her thighs squeezed tight around his hand. With a twist of his wrist that timed perfectly with a curl of his fingers and a press of his thumb, her vision all but whited out as she came – her cries stark in the silence. It was like the tension of the past week melted out of her body, seeping and dissipating into the bathwater. She felt his fingers withdraw and sighed at the loss, her eyes begrudgingly opening to meet his.  
“Better?”  
“Mmmm… Much. I didn’t know how much I needed that.”  
He ran his hand softly up her arm. “We should get you to bed. You could use some sleep.”  
Reluctantly, she had to agree – much longer in the water and her fingertips would start to wrinkle. “I’m just gonna finish up a couple of things and I’ll be back, okay?” She smiled and he got up gracefully, pulling the door to as he went.

Bonnie dragged herself to her feet, used the bathroom, and rinsed the bubbles off in the shower, taking a few seconds to quickly run a razor over her legs and underarms. All told, she was feeling much more together than she was an hour ago – together enough, in fact, to regret that it had to be almost time for Damon to go home, and she would have to wait yet _another_ week for what they had planned. She was surprised by the voracity of her own desire; she had never felt like this before. Obviously she had felt lust, but never this bone-deep need. It was insatiable – his fingers had been inside her only a few minutes ago and already she was craving her next fix, craving more. She wondered if it would ever be enough. Bonnie thought back to how perplexed she had been that first night at Indigo, trying to work out what their clientele got out of it that they couldn’t get for free from any meaningless hook-up. It was safe to say she got it now. She looked wistfully at the door, allowing herself one moment of futilely wishing for a magic wand to turn back the clock before throwing on her short robe and heading out: She could at least wish him goodnight.

When she emerged, he was just coming into the room, rolling down his sleeves and refastening the cuffs. He gave her a warm smile.  
“Dishes are done. Kitchen’s tidy. You don’t look like you’re about to have a breakdown any minute. I think my work here is done.”  
“I wish it wasn’t.” The words came out of her mouth without thinking, and his smile fell a little. “I’m sorry, it’s not fair on you to say that when it’s my own stupid fault. It’s just… I hate that I have to wait another week for something I should have just let myself have from the first goddamn night I met you.” His expression was fraught with conflict. She couldn’t blame him – how to deal with the chronically indecisive and self-denying probably wasn’t in the training manual. “Sorry. Again.” She bit the inside of her cheek before she could dig herself a deeper hole. “You should go."  
“What if I didn’t have to?”  
She shook her head. “You and I both know that little buzzer in your watch is gonna go off any second”  
“You could ask me to stay.”  
“Damon…”  
He leaned in close, hands on her upper arms, forehead resting against hers. His eyes met hers – those heart-stopping sapphires that almost didn’t look real shining in the dim light. She felt his breath on her lips when he spoke again.  
”Ask.”  
Her heart was thundering at being so close to him without feeling his skin, his voice – barely a whisper – had almost sounded like a plea. She didn’t know what good it would do, what it could achieve, but…  
“Stay.”

She hadn’t anticipated that his next move would be to pull back slightly and pull his phone from his pocket. He hit a couple of keys and put the phone to his ear.  
“What-?” He put a finger over his lips and she took the hint to stay quiet.  
“Ginger? It’s Damon... Listen, traffic has been crazy and I’ve actually just pulled up to my 9pm… Well I would’ve called but my Uber driver was chit-chatting about his brother in Vice, so I figured it might not be the best idea… Yeah, I know the drill, I’ll check in after… Okay thanks.” He tapped the screen to end the call and put the phone back in his pocket. Bonnie’s expression must have belied her confusion. “What?”  
“Why did you do that?”  
He shrugged nonchalantly. “You asked.” She raised an eyebrow: _Really?_ “I take my job _very_ seriously.” He trailed a hand down her arm, even that simple touch over the silk of her robe left goosebumps in its wake, and she’d lay money he knew it. “Right now, you don’t strike me as a very satisfied customer.” His fingertips traced a path across her midriff to where the robe fastened, slipping his hand inside. Her breath caught as his hand glided across her skin, tracing the underside of her breast; his other hand traveled down her back to rest at the top of her thigh, holding her in close. Bonnie was half-drunk on the feeling of his touch, and when his lips ghosted the shell of her ear a shiver ran down her spine that made her knees weak. “Have I ever left you less than completely satisfied?” Words weren’t a thing she could manage right now, so she shook her head. His finger brushed over her nipple as his teeth caught her earlobe and she all but combusted. “I don’t intend to start now.”

The next few seconds were a blur of motion and sensation that ended with Bonnie laid back on the bed, her robe pushed aside and Damon pressed on top of her. She had already half undone his shirt, and he broke from macking on her neck just long enough to pull it over his head. His bare chest against hers was rapturous, and she could feel him hardening through his trousers. His hand eased under her thigh and pressed her into him so hard her eyes rolled back. Her hands roved hungrily, drinking in the taut muscles and velvet skin before meeting at his waist to unbuckle his belt. She felt the ‘hmm’ of his moan vibrate in the hollow of her throat when she reached in to palm him through his underwear. He slid his hand between them and (courtesy of his earlier attentions) two fingers straight into her slick, and began stroking slow, firm circles against her g-spot that made her shudder. She reached into his underwear and pulled his shaft free, squeezing firmly and pumping her fist along his considerable length, prompting a stuttered breath from Damon. His teeth played at her neck – not firmly enough to bruise, but just roughly enough to drag a sound from her that was somewhere between a moan and a whimper. She was more than ready for him (it felt like she had been ready for him for weeks - since she first laid eyes on him), but he took his time honing her desperation until she was fairly sure she would die without him inside her.  
“Damon, please.” She sounded so needy she barely recognised her own voice.  
His fingers slid out of her and while she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her at the sensation of loss, she felt her heart stutter in anticipation. After so long wanting him, it was like being at the top of a roller coaster waiting for the fall. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar plastic packet.  
“We didn’t talk about…”  
Bonnie didn’t need him to finish the sentence: She knew Indigo’s reputation was built on safety as much as pleasure, and every night she had gone to bed with fevered dreams of him on her mind, there had been nothing between the two of them but skin. She took the packet from his hand and discarded it, shaking her head.  
“I want to feel you.”  
She hooked her thumbs inside his waistband with impatience, and he (somehow not-awkwardly) shucked off his remaining clothes before lining himself up with her entrance. 

Bonnie’s mouth fell open at the substantial press of him, slowly sinking in inch by inch by delicious inch. He filled her so thoroughly and perfectly she felt like she hardly dare draw breath, nails reflexively digging in to his hips as he bottomed out, swearing softly against her skin. She’d known he was big, but feeling it like this was something else entirely – the stretch was almost too much, but she was already looking forward to getting used to it. He paused to let her body adjust, his thighs just slightly trembling with restraint.  
“You okay?”  
She loosed a stuttered breath. “S-so much better than okay.”  
He breathed a laugh, and her body sang with sensation at even that fraction of motion; she wanted more. Her fingers dug desperately into his skin, urging him to move. His first languid draw back had her sucking in air, and when he plunged back into her, her grip tightened on his hips and she swore. He finished the move with a grinding motion of his pelvic bone that lined up just right with her clit and she bit back a moan: One thrust and every nerve ending in her body was on fire. Once he was satisfied she wasn’t uncomfortable with his size or the depth of his thrusts, he began his work in earnest.

This wasn’t sex. At least, it wasn’t like any sex she’d ever had. She’d heard of out-of-body experiences, but this was an _in_ -body experience: It was like she was truly feeling her body for the first time, and she was feeling _everything_. Instinct took over and her hips moved in time with his of their own volition, and every few thrusts he would do the grinding motion against her clit that had her keening, but was always enough to leave her wanting. He could probably have had her coming in under a minute, but kept his pacing slow and even to draw her out. Her hands ran roughshod over his body, drinking in the texture of him and twisting in his hair, pulling his face down close enough that she could taste his breath. Her legs tangled with his, wrapping around his thighs and frantically pulling him in impossibly closer. Her nipples could cut glass from the delicious friction of brushing against the flexing musculature of his chest; she couldn’t get enough. Occasionally, a shiver of pure _something_ would run through her and her body would shake – with need, pleasure, excess, or a mix of all three, she wasn’t sure.

As another quasi-rapturous wave washed over her, she felt him shift a hand under her rear and lift her, his knees sliding up under her and her chest aching in the cool air as he rose to a kneeling pose. Now free from having to hold his weight, his hands were free and he put them to good use as she adjusted to the change in position, one gripping her hip firmly and lending more power to his thrusts, the other making a thorough and devastating exploration of her body: Soft caresses up her sides, firm palming at her breasts, light pressure on her abdomen. Her eyes had fallen shut, hands had gone from exploring him to grasping at the pillows, the bed – anything she could get her hands on to ground her from the overload of sensation. A firm flex of fingers on the soft skin of her abdomen drew her attention, and she opened her eyes to watch him bring those fingers to his lips. His eyes made contact with hers in a way that compelled her attention as he took his thumb in his mouth, gaze lowering to follow it as he brought the damp digit down to where there bodies met. Her eyes followed the path of his and came to rest on the sight of him pumping into her just as his slick thumb pressed hard against her clit. The combined sensation and visual was too much and she came with a force that took her by surprise. He fucked her through it as her body wracked with spasms, squeezing him so tight it was just the right side of painful as her back arched clear off the bed.

When she had sufficiently recovered to meet Damon’s gaze, he gave her a smug little smile before pulling her upright. There was a moment of oversensitivity before she came to rest on her knees while straddling his lap, still inside her. His lips lowered to her neck and she gasped, her body instinctively rolling forwards to meet his languid thrust. This position minimised contact with her clit so she wasn’t overstimulated so soon after coming, instead brushing tantalisingly against her G-spot as he rocked with her, and giving her control over pace, depth, and cadence. One hand slid up her back to cradle the back of her neck, and the other held her thigh. Bliss: It was bliss, building her afterglow into something stronger. After a few minutes, something _much_ stronger. She met his eyes, pupils blown black with lust so she could just make out the ring of icy blue. His forehead rested against hers in that almost-kiss again, his nose brushing against hers, somehow wordlessly passing her the reins.  
And she took them.  
Tentatively at first, Bonnie sped their pace a fraction, and he matched her instantly. She shifted her hips a little and brought her hands to his shoulders, pressing down on them to give her the leverage she needed to deepen his thrusts, pulling almost fully out of her before drawing back down, resulting in a stuttered exhale from Damon that was almost eclipsed by her own throaty moan. She felt his hand creep up from her thigh to her waist and gently adjust her posture, leaning her back slightly, and it went from good to spine-tinglingly incredible as his entire length seemed to drag against her g-spot. Her fingers dug tightly into his shoulders as she repeated the move, and when he thrust up hard, she whimpered.  
“Oh god, d-don’t move. Oh my g-”  
Her fingers gripped him tight as he obediently froze in position and she rode his dick, her words cut off by an almost inhuman noise from her throat. She thought distantly that using his body so unashamedly for her own pleasure should feel wrong, but as she could feel the most powerful orgasm of her life bubbling up inside her, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She heard his breath catch hard in his own throat and a hoarse, breathy _“Oh, fuck_ ” escape him. She forced her eyes to open to meet his, and found them pleading. She knew what he was asking, and _god, yes_ she wanted it. She managed a nod somewhere before her vision narrowed to the head of a pin. She burst in a cascade of searing pleasure and a cry of his name that threatened to burn her alive, and Damon finally lost his fight to keep to her command of stillness, pistoning into her with a passion and ferocity that she knew she would be feeling for days as he came.

When Bonnie regained control of her body, she had pins and needles. Damon’s head was rested against her chest as he panted.  
“Is it always like that?”   
Her voice was croaky, but there was a shakiness to his as well that gave her a unique satisfaction.   
”Pretty sure I’d have been hauled away for experiments by now if it was.” She huffed a laugh and felt his smile against the hollow of her neck, followed by a press of his lips. “Worth the wait?”  
“Only in that you’ve ruined me for all other men.”   
“Careful, or my ego won’t fit through the door.”  
“And it would _still_ be smaller than your… Nonono-aaah!” She squealed as he threw her back on the bed, giggling as he pinned her to the bed with his thighs and tickled her sides, a genuine and warm smile on his face. It was goofy and silly, but kind of perfect. She grasped at his hands and he held her wrists, rubbing small circles on her pulse points, and she bit her lip and let out a small hum of contentment. The moment couldn’t last forever, and his face fell into a frown. She hated knowing why.  
“I wish you could stay.”  
“I know.” His eyes were apologetic, saying the words he didn’t _. But I can’t_.  
He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before getting up. She didn’t watch him dress, turning her face into the pillow and basking in the lingering smell of sex and him. She was asleep before she even heard the door click shut.

\---

When Bonnie got up the next morning, she was relaxed and contented – the pleasant aches of past pleasure having replaced the taught discomfort of stress that had addled her body for days – and with the exception of a wistful glance to the empty bed beside her, she hadn’t felt better than this in a long time. She even felt ready to attack the indomitable pile of paper with renewed vigour, but as she walked past the table to grab a cup of coffee, a yellow post-it on top of one of the files caught here eye. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but something about the spiky, elegant lines immediately evoked the essence of the man who wrote it. The message was short and to the point:

 _This one – D_

Bonnie opened the file and gave it a once over. She vaguely remembered reading it, but honestly half of what she’d read in the past few days hadn’t sunk in. The proposal was a mix of a scholarship and internship programme for high school graduates who had lost out on sports scholarship to go to college because of injuries. She looked at it with renewed interest, unsure what about it had caught Damon’s eye, but she could see it’s potential. It went in the ‘serious maybe pile’. Ten hours later, it was the one she handed over to her Programme Manager. With it, the pressure of the week lifted. She pulled out her phone and tapped out a message.

  
_B: You know my expectations are crazy high now, right?_  
_D: I’m not good with expectations_  
_B: Shouldn’t have fed me then_  
_D: I’m not cooking again_  
_B: Darn_  
_D: But if the pasta was the only element of the evening you remember, I did it wrong_  
_B: Hard to forget the other part when I’m still feeling it_  
_D: What did I tell you about feeding my ego?_  
_B: Wasn’t listening - Was busy_  
_D: Rude_  
_B: You can tell me again next week_  
_B: And the week after that_  
_D: I will_  
_D: Still not cooking again_  
[She bit her lip, hesitating over her next message before hitting send]  
_B: I’ll just have to find something else to fill me up… Any ideas?_  
[She followed it up with the emoji in a little halo]  
_D: That’s cheating_  
_B: If you were a by-the-book guy, last night would never have happened_  
_D: Touché_  
_D: Still mad you’re getting me all revved up on my night off though_  
_B: Consider it revenge for the ache between my legs_  
_D: Tease_  
_B: I’m only a tease if I don’t plan to put out_  
_B: And we are definitely fucking again next week_  
_D: Thank god_  
_D: I mean, you’re still 100% in charge and everything_  
_D: But thank god_  
_B: Careful, I might start to think you care_  
_D: Wouldn’t want that, would we?_  
[She regretted sending her last message – he wasn’t paid to care – but didn’t know what to make of his reply]

  
_B: Anyways, I just wanted to say thanks_  
_B: For everything_  
_B: See you next week?_  
_D: Wild horses couldn’t keep me away_


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next few weeks, time for Bonnie seemed to ebb and flow in relation to how close Friday was – Saturdays through to Wednesdays moved like molasses, Thursdays were spent in desperate anticipation, and Fridays passed in a blur of all-consuming passion. They got into a rhythm whereby they barely got past ‘hi’ before he had her crushed up against a wall or she was unbuckling his belt. Far from diminishing as she thought it would, her fervour actually seemed to increase over time. He was quickly becoming the itch she couldn’t scratch – she _craved_ him.

Which was what made this situation all the more crappy.

 _D: I just spent the last hour with crazy art lady. I have plaster in some very unfortunate places. Your appointment tomorrow is the lone island of sanity in the ocean of fucked up things I do for money.  
B: Fuck  
B: I'm SO sorry...  
D: For my pitiful hooker life in general, or that plaster is a bitch to wash out of body hair?  
B: I have to cancel  
B: The universe is punishing me for lying to my friends  
D: ?  
B: I don't wanna tell you, you'll laugh at me  
D: Probably, but tell me anyway  
B: I have a blind date  
_Her phone rings  
"Isn't that what Tinder is for? So you don't have to waste an evening on a guy who may or may not look like a mountain goat?"  
"Caroline wouldn't have set me up with a non-cute guy."  
"And yet he agreed to a blind date. Gotta be something wrong with him. Remind me why this is somehow still a thing in 2020?"  
"Because Care thinks I'm going to die a virgin or something."  
"You want to break the news to her or should I?"  
"Not literally. She's just... She wants me to have someone. I'm humouring her."  
"Why not tell her you're seeing someone? It's half true."  
"Because eventually my friends will want to meet the mystery guy, and the transaction fee and briefcase full of vibrators might be hard to explain."  
"Touché. So have an early dinner and I'll come tuck you in after."  
"Damon..."  
"What? Even if by some miracle you like the guy, something tells me you aren't the type to put out on a first date."  
"Remember when I also wasn't the type to pay for sex?"  
There was a brief silence. "Okay, so I guess I'll see you next week?"  
Bonnie was a little disappointed at the abrupt end to their repartee. She could have sworn he sounded almost... Upset? She tried to inject some levity.  
"Unless goat-man turns out to be my Prince Charming, in which case I'll let Ginger know she can free up your highly requested Friday evenings."  
"Yeah, sure." He sounded completely detached. "Gotta go - plaster to deal with and all. See you next week. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  
  
The whole thing just felt... off . Some unpleasant little voice in the back of her head whispered that he was probably pissed at potentially losing a lucrative client, but she knew that wasn't it. Bonnie's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment wondering if to send him something, but after watching the screen go dark a few times without knowing what to say, she put it down and went back to steeling herself for tomorrow.  


\---

Damon wasn't jealous. Honestly it was just... inconvenient. He could book someone else into the slot, sure, but for some reason he couldn't help but think of that appointment at as 'Bonnie's' - like it would be wrong to see someone else when he should be with her ( _oh yeah, that's healthy_ ). Things had been going swimmingly well with her lately – he hadn’t broken the rules with her for _weeks_. It was almost a normal escort/client relationship. Well, except for the way he looked forward to her appointments. And the borderline _feral_ way he launched himself at her after a week apart. And the fact he always came with her. _Every. Single. Time._ No matter if she was his first client of the night or the last. He’d even tried jacking off beforehand once – made no difference, his body was just hard-wired to respond to every sound that came out of her, every touch of her fingers. Okay, so objectively speaking, maybe not a 100% professional relationship, then. But it was progress.

He really didn’t have anything to worry about, anyway. The date would be awful - blind dates always are, right? So Bonnie would be going to bed miserable and frustrated and alone, instead of pliant and sated and happy in his arms (like she should be). Yeah, that was more likely the reason he was feeling this way. Except... Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, right? What if it _wasn't_ awful? What if - against unfathomable odds, the guy wasn't objectively a basement-dwelling dweeb? What if she clicked with him? Would her body react to this loser in that same primal, delicious way it had to his the first night they met? Would she laugh at his crappy jokes? Her eyes might even do that coy little look-down-then-up-through-the-lashes flirt thing that Damon loved when it was aimed at him but that sort of made him feel queasy when he thought about her doing it to someone else. His blood started to boil in his veins when he thought about her kissing the douchebag goodnight - such a small, chaste thing, but something he would never share with her. Let alone the bile that rose in his throat when he imagined her taking him home - his lips on her neck as she put the key in the door, his fingers slipping under the strap of her dress...  
  
Okay, so maybe he was jealous. He was man enough to admit that. But it was a moot point, because contrary to the ravings of his overactive imagination, blind dates always sucked.  
Right?  


\---

Bonnie plonked herself down on the barstool with a slump and ordered a gin and tonic, hastily adding to make it a double. She pulled out her phone and sighed with frustration as she typed out a message to Damon - she had hoped to be sending something far more smug right about now - had daydreamed a little about sending something along the lines of:   
_More Matt Damon than mountain goat. Score one for blind dates!_   
Or:   
_Don't wait up, Mom_.

She had definitely not wanted to be sending:   
_I hate it when you're right_. 

Things hadn't gotten off to a bad start. The guy wasn't unattractive (it wasn't like he gave her butterflies or anything, but she definitely wouldn't kick him out of bed). That had been a slight relief - she trusted Caroline not to set her up with someone she didn't think was good looking, but their tastes were markedly different, and a lot of the guys Caroline swooned over made Bonnie turn her nose up. He had also picked a decent restaurant - Bonnie had been glad she had opted for something a little dressier than her usual first-date attire (though the decision had been based more on a desire to prove to Damon that he was wrong about blind dates being automatically awful, rather than foreknowledge of the swanky venue - the green bodycon dress that hugged her curves in all the right places and made her eyes pop was the kind of thing she usually reserved for a few dates down the line when she was considering taking him home). Unfortunately, it had been all downhill from there.

There was no spark. Zero. Initially, if it wasn't for the fact he could NOT stop talking to her breasts rather than her face, she wouldn't even have known he liked women. He answered any attempt to start a conversation with a monosyllabic response to start with, but as the evening wore on and he started on his 5th beer, she started to yearn for their original one-sided conversation. It would be preferable to the frankly pathetic whining about his ex, who at this point Bonnie honestly couldn't blame for sleeping with her personal trainer. The icing on the cake was when he suggested that she pay for her portion of the meal on her knees, because ‘Caroline had made it clear she wasn't getting the good dick anywhere else'. Bonnie responded by throwing her drink in his face and storming out. She couldn't face going home yet - not when she'd just be looking at her bed and wishing she had spent the evening in it with Damon as she had originally planned - which is how she found herself downtown in the only bar she could find that her stupidly fancy dress wouldn't look out of place in, getting ready to drown her sorrows. She looked wistfully at the tapped out message and deleted it before sending. She could go a while longer without his gloating.

"You look breathtaking if it wasn't obvious."   
She would have been sure she had imagined it, if it weren't for the inimitable way her body reacted to that voice - the tingle it sent down her spine and the way her heart beat a little faster. She span on her seat and, in spite of how infuriatingly happy she was to see him, almost regretted it, because Damon looked _sinfully_ good, which just made her even more pissed about the wasted evening. Especially because he made no attempt to conceal the way he was checking her out, eyes raking over her form so hard she could practically feel them. She subconsciously jutted out her chest to give him a better view. Suddenly, her evening was looking up.   
"Damon? What are you doing here?"   
It had been weeks since the last time they had said so many words before one or both of them were naked.   
"Was about to ask you the same thing, but I'm guessing your date took one look at you in that dress and didn't want to end things at dinner.” He glanced around surreptitiously. ”Where is he, bathroom? I gotta do my due diligence and check he's hot enough for you." He must have noticed the dejection on Bonnie's face. "What-"   
He was cut off by a striking brunette who Bonnie could only describe as Elena, but with the sexy dialled up to 11. Dark, shiny curls cascaded down her back and bounced as she moved on sky-high heels with an effortless grace. She wore a strapless black dress so tight Bonnie was surprised she could breathe in it, and so short she was sure she wouldn't be able to bend without exposing herself. Her makeup was dark and sultry, and her lips were blood-red. She was - to all intents and purposes - every guy's fantasy, and Bonnie had gone from feeling smoking hot to dowdy soccer mom in 3 seconds flat.   
"Hey babe, who's your friend?" The woman's hand came to rest on Damon's shoulder and she moulded herself to him possessively.   
_‘Babe'?_ Bonnie's stomach plummeted as she realised she was probably face to face with his replacement appointment for the evening. _If even a goddess like her has to pay for him, what the hell chance would I ever have?_   
"I'm Bonnie." She choked out.   
"Katherine." She managed to convey in a single up-down of her eyes that she was looking at Bonnie as if assessing the competition, and finding herself unthreatened. "So how exactly do you know my boyfriend?"

Bonnie's heart stopped.   
_Boyfriend?_   
Suddenly everything made so much more sense. Katherine was beyond gorgeous, confident, and practically oozed sex. She was a perfect match for Damon. And Bonnie... Bonnie felt sick. There were 2 options, neither of them good: Either Katherine knew what her boyfriend did for a living (in which case she could imagine the two of them cuddling up, having a good laugh at her expense), or... Or she didn't know, and Bonnie was about to be the homewrecker witnessing their break up. _Oh god._

"Katherine, play nice." Damon chided. He turned to Bonnie. "Bonnie, this is Katherine, who I'm fairly sure isn't my girlfriend, because her species eats their partner's heads when they mate. Katherine, this is Bonnie, who is the reason for my sudden availability for our little soiree tonight, after she ditched me for a blind date, leaving me with a broken heart and blue balls. There, now we all know each other."   
Bonnie guessed she looked kind of bug eyed, because Katherine was looking at her with the amusement of a spider playing with a fly.   
"I'd ask if she was simple or something, but she pays to sleep with you, so question answered."

  
"Katherine..." He warned.  
"Wait so... You..." Bonnie was lost.  
"Also fuck people for money? Yes, sweetie. Try and keep up." She looked bored and scanned the bar. "I think I see the others. Well, not that this wasn't entertaining, but... No, wait: It wasn't. I'm gonna go see how many vodka martinis I can fit into this dress. Toodles."

Damon heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Sorry about that. She grows on you. Kind of like herpes... So, in all seriousness, where's your date?"   
Bonnie decided honesty was the best policy. "Trying to get merlot stains out of his shirt." Damon looked at her quizzically. "I might've thrown my drink over him. Guy was a tool."   
"I knew it! What did I say about blind dates?"   
"Continue gloating and your friend is going to look like a ray of sunshine compared to me."   
"Duly noted."   
"So, you're here with friends?"

  
"Just some of the guys from work blowing off a little steam." There was a short pause where he looked like he was hesitating over his words. "Do you maybe... Would you want to join us?"  
"Oh no... No, you don't have to do that. It's your night off." It almost physically hurt to say no, but the last thing she wanted was for him to feel obligated to include her.  
"Sexiest table in the room - wouldn't be right if you weren't on it."

  
Bonnie couldn't help the little blush that rose to her cheeks at the compliment (damn him for always being able to do that).  
"You're sure I won't be imposing? The last thing I want is for everyone to feel like they have to be on their best behaviour or something."  
He huffed a laugh.  
"If only. It's more likely they'll be extra outrageous for the first ten minutes just to try get a reaction out of you. If you survive that long, you're golden."  
Bonnie considered for a minute. In truth, she was kind of terrified, but on the other hand, how much worse could her evening get? 

As Damon led her to the table, she felt the butterflies in her stomach swarm. Katherine's indomitable presence was visible from across the room, and she was accompanied by two very attractive men who Bonnie assumed were Damon's other friends. One had chocolate brown hair and puppy dog eyes, and looked exactly like the kind of guy you dreamed about coming home to after a stressful day at work. The other had short, curly blonde hair and a smile that bordered on predatory, which was bizarrely sexy in its own way, but left you in no doubt he was bad news. Bonnie caught a hint of a British accent, though she wasn't sure from whom, as the table fell quiet at their approach - obviously not sure what to make of the last-minute addition.   
"Guys, I hope you don't mind, I ran into a friend at the bar and asked her to join us. Bonnie, this is Enzo and Klaus. And of course you've had the dubious pleasure of meeting Katherine."   
"If I'd known we were bringing clients tonight, I would have brought one to serve me drinks." Katherine said disdainfully. Bonnie held a breath, wondering how the others would react to the revelation that she was a client.   
"You're just jealous because your punters look like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons and his look like that." The guy with the brown eyes shot back - allowing Bonnie to attribute the owner to the British accent. "Don't listen to the hag. I'm Enzo, by the way." He offered his hand, but when she went to shake it, he locked her gaze to his and leaned in, pressing a kiss to it instead. "Pleasure to meet you."   
"And the British charm offensive begins. Watch your girl, D, or the limeys will steal her right out from under you. Unless she's usually the one on top?"   
Bonnie felt colour start to rise in her cheeks.   
"Jealousy does not become you, Katerina." A chill went down Bonnie's spine at the quiet but authoritative other - also English - voice from the blonde guy. "Pay her no mind. Have a seat... Bonnie, was it?"   
She gave a polite nod and took stock of her seating options: There was only one seat next to each, which would leave her sat next to one of the guys she didn't know. She hedged her bets and took the seat next to the less threatening looking one - Enzo.   
"Thanks for letting me gatecrash."   
"What circumstances led to you being unaccompanied while wearing such a striking dress?"   
Despite the innocuous question, something about Klaus still set her teeth on edge. She took a sip of her drink before answering.   
"Bad blind date."   
"That's what you get for bailing on me." Damon took his seat opposite her. "Definitely karma." She kicked him playfully in the leg. "Hey, easy. We haven't established a safe word."   
A disapproving tut from Klaus that swiftly reminded her where she had heard his name: Damon had mentioned something when they first met about him taking some of the more extreme clientele. _That explains a lot_.   
Enzo started cackling. "She cancelled you for a blind date? Wow mate, you must really be losing your touch." He turned to Bonnie. "Should make a booking with me, gorgeous. I'll take good care of you."   
"Don't worry, Enzo, if Bonnie ever fancies a little variety I'll send her your way. An hour with you should be enough to send her running back to me." Enzo responded with a middle finger.   
"So, Bonnie, what was it about our boy's profile that attracted you to him?" Katherine wrapped her tongue around the olive in her martini. "The bad boy charm or the monster cock?"   
Bonnie knew it was aimed to make her uncomfortable, so she made an effort to remain unfazed.   
"Actually it's Enzo's fault." She enjoyed the look of surprise on the Brit's face. "One of my friends had a session with you and left me unattended in the bar. Damon and I got chatting and it turns out my willpower was more limited than I thought. She was done with you in one session though, and I'm still going back for more, so you'll forgive my scepticism of your ability to, what was it ‘take care of me'?"

Klaus broke into raucous laughter, Damon gave her a proud smile, and Katherine wore a hesitantly impressed smirk. Even Enzo laughed at his own expense.   
"You didn't warn us she was a firecracker. And she knows your real name? Ballsy for you, mate."  
"These guys all think I'm an idiot for bothering with a fake name at work, but they don't have to think about family finding out." Damon clarified.  
"Speak for yourself, mate." This from Klaus  
"Yeah but unlike you I don't consider embarrassing and scandalising mine to be an art form."  
"You should. The look on Elijah's face when one of his society friends recognises me is worth its weight in gold."  
"You're a sick man, Nik."  
"Thank you." He honestly sounded like he would take that as a compliment.  
  
"So." Enzo interceded. "Ladies, Gentlemen, and... Katherine." She made a face that could only be described as a snarl in response. "Without further ado, shall we ante up?"  
"Finally." Katherine drawled. "Not that I don't love hanging around with you all... Well, I don't, but it doesn't usually take me this long to get to the good stuff, if you know what I mean."  
"Sadly, we do." Damon quipped.  
He reached into his pocket and threw down a thick wad of cash, and the others followed suit - Katherine pulling her wedge from inside her bra.  
"The hopeless rookie is lost." Bonnie conceded "What’s going on?"  
"Just a friendly wager." Damon explained. "We bet a night's fee-"  
"Or a night's company, if we're short on cash." Enzo added with a pointed look at Katherine.  
"That was one time!" From the edge in Katherine's voice, she'd bet it was something they’d never let her live down. Bonnie wondered who had won it.  
"We each get one shot - our weirdest session of the month." Damon continued. "Whoever's story is deemed worst by majority vote takes the cash."  
"Actually, seeing as we have an impartial party present, I was going to suggest she do the honours." Enzo added, throwing a pointed look Bonnie's way as Katherine pointedly rolled her eyes. He leaned in close and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, looking for a second like he might kiss her. "I'm quite looking forward to putting a rosy blush on those lovely cheeks."  
Bonnie was fairly sure her face was already tinged pink, but she remembered what Damon had said: They would try and get a reaction out of her; she just had to ride out the worst of it. Two could play at the personal space game. She scooted back and swung her bare legs up onto Enzo's lap, crossing them at the thigh.  
"You can try."  
Enzo exchanged a look of approval with Damon across the table – she was obviously doing well.  
"You heard the lady." Enzo carried on. "Who's first?"  
"Me, obviously." All eyes went to Katherine, which is probably exactly where she wanted them.  
"Aren't you going to sit down, love?" Klaus asked.  
"Does it look like I can sit down in this dress?" She fired back. "Okay, so male. Late thirties. Clearly not been laid since the demise of dial-up. I'm playing the popular girl he never got to play hide the salami with in high school. Because that never gets old. So I put on Default Ditzy Cheerleader Personality 2, get all flirty and 'I don't know why I never noticed you before, you're so cute'" She mimed gagging. "Only instead of practically falling at my feet like you expect, he cuts me off. He tells me he wanted to fuck the Prom Queen, not that he wanted her to be attracted to him. So I tell him rape fantasy has to be cleared by head office first, but that wasn't what he wanted either." Bonnie wasn't the only one wearing a puzzled expression.  
"So what did he want?"  
"Indifference. Consensual, but zero enthusiasm. Literally wanted me to lay there, check Twitter while he went down on me, and look visibly bored while he jack-hammered. Basically just like all sex with men, except I didn't have to fake anything. I improvised a little at the end and told him he was the worst lay I ever had and that I would tell all the other girls. He gave me an extra $200."  
"Wow, okay." Bonnie didn't really know what else to say to that.  
"I liked him. Hope he books again - makes a change from 'oh my god, no-one has ever been in me this deep!'.” She made a sound of disgust. “Men are pathetic."  
"You can't honestly think that?" Bonnie's disbelief was audible.  
"Oh, she really does." Damon was matter of fact.  
"Aww, does that mean you're not carrying that little torch for me anymore, Damon? "  
"Honey, if I was that much of a masochist, I'd be pining after him." He gestured to Klaus, who laughed it off.  
Bonnie couldn't help her curiosity. "So did you two used to date?"  
An incredulous laugh from Damon. "Not exactly." He gave Katherine a look that was surprisingly warm considering the venom they spewed at one another. "This was back when I was an innocent little newbie. Katherine's been doing this job since the stone age, so Sage - our boss - gave me over to her to learn the ropes."  
"He was the sweetest little lapdog. I had him wrapped around my little finger doing everything I said, spending every cent of his earnings on me. Think I got a solid 10 g's of stuff out of him before he found his spine."  
Bonnie was gobsmacked. The concept of Damon wanting someone and them not immediately throwing themselves at his feet just didn’t compute. Enzo obviously hadn’t heard the story either.

"Wow. Ten grand? And I thought _I_ was an impressive lay."  
Katherine giggled. "Oh I didn't _sleep_ with him. Ew. Just made him _think_ I would."  
"Stone cold bitch strung me along for 3 months." Damon gestured at Klaus. "He watched the whole car crash. Thought it was hilarious."  
"So you've never slept with one another?" The disbelief must have been written on her face.  
"I'm a dyke, sweetie.” Katherine stated bluntly. “I only take dick when I'm getting paid for it."  
"Oh." Bonnie hadn't even considered that as a possibility, but actually it made a hell of a lot of sense - Katherine obviously viewed men as walking ATMs rather than people.  
"You did eventually get the goods though, you can thank that Japanese guy for that. What was his name? Yakitori?"   
"Yushimoto. And you were so not worth the ten grand." Bonnie must have looked completely lost again. "Businessman with a voyeur kink and more money than sense. I had the dubious honour of putting on a show for him with the lovely Katherine. Thought I might finally get my money's worth. I was sorely mistaken."  
"Oh you were sore? Who was the petty little bitch that used that minty lube that literally feels like a refrigerated yeast infection."  
"Ah, fond memories."  
The weird dynamic between them made more sense, though she couldn't tell 100% which side of the friends/frenemies line they were on.  
  
"Enough of the trips down memory lane, fellas." Enzo chimed in. "Who's next?"  
Bonnie had almost forgotten the betting game.  
"I vote Klaus. There's a slim chance his story won't be super boring." This from Katherine.  
Klaus nodded in acquiescence. "My tale is another escapade inspired by that frightful excuse for literature, I'm afraid."  
There was a collective sympathetic sigh, and Bonnie quirked an eyebrow at Damon for clarification.  
"Fifty Shades. Suffice it to say Klaus isn't a fan."  
"That’s putting it rather mildly. It makes a dangerous mockery of something which can be a quite exquisite experience and a healthy and mutually respectful lifestyle. It isn't fit to be used as kindling. So few women appreciate the art of shibari, or the skill it takes to wield a riding crop without breaking skin. Any cretin with a flogger and a ballgag can call himself a Dom nowadays." Klaus expounded, sounding wistful. "I shall leave my soapbox talk on the subject for another time. My client is a middle aged single mother who wanted her own experience modeled after that dreadful book. She seemed quite put out that I wanted to discuss basic formalities such as safe words, safe gestures, and consent with her beforehand..."   
"Back up. Safe gestures? Isn't a word enough?" Klaus put a hand over his mouth and Bonnie put two and two together - if the person was gagged... "Oh okay, I get it. Carry on."  
"See? If you can understand the concept, why is it so hard for someone who wishes to actually explore submission?” He asked exasperated. “At any rate, I explained the importance of such basics, and she seemed happy to continue. Things progressed. I set her in a comfortable but appropriately submissive waiting position and set up the room, but then the insolent wench piped up and asked where my jeans were. I like to think of myself as an old hand at the trade, and that is a question I haven't yet encountered. I asked what she meant. It seems that, in the film version of the book that shall not be named, the 'Dom'-" He used air quotes when he said the word, as if he didn't even want to apply the word - "wears a specific pair of jeans when scening."  
Katherine sniggered. "Sorry, I'm just trying to picture you in jeans. In fact. I don't think I’ve ever seen you in anything but a black suit."  
"I don't think he owns anything else." Damon chimed in. "Bet she was disappointed."  
"You should have seen the dejection on her face when I told her I wouldn't be having sex with her either."  
"You don't sleep with your clients?" Bonnie was surprised.  
"That would be tantamount to acknowledging them as my equals, which would rather infringe upon the dynamic of master and slave, would it not?"  
"I never thought of it that way." Bonnie conceded.  
"Think on it a little more. If it sparks a heretofore dormant interest, you know where to find me." Her cheeks heated at the predatory look he gave her.  
"Wow. You too, huh? Anyone else want to make a play to steal my client? Katherine?”  
"She's safe from me."  
"Thank you."  
"I mean why bother? She obviously has terrible taste if she likes you."  
If looks could kill... Bonnie suppressed a laugh.

"Okay, Damon. Your turn. Whatcha got?"  
"You mean other than the crazy woman who bailed on me for a blind date?"  
"Only if you don't want to forfeit that money." She smiled sweetly, and Enzo smirked next to her.  
"Ooh-kay, how about the one where my client forgot our appointment and I ended up cooking her dinner and running her a bath?"  
"I hate you so much."  
"He cooked you dinner?!" Enzo was incredulous. "Oh mate, you are never allowed to take the piss out of my BFE bookings EVER again."  
"BFE?" Bonnie asked  
"Boyfriend experience." Damon translated.  
"What's that?"  
"My specialty." Enzo said with a smile. "And no it doesn't mean you get lumbered with some lout who watches the footie, doesn't do the dishes, and leaves the toilet seat up. It means instead of an hour of meaningless sex, you get a night of romance."  
"So I could pay you to be a less shitty blind date?"  
"Not a date, love: A boyfriend. The perfect boyfriend, to be exact. We can talk, cuddle up and watch a movie on the couch. Some girls like it when I l read to them. I've taught girls a few chords of the guitar... There's still sex, of course - usually a couple of times before the night's through - but without the awkward having to leave straight after bit."  
"So, wining, dining, and 69'ing?" Bonnie deadpanned.  
"If you like." There was a subtle invitation in the way he said it that had her cheeks heating again. Credit where it's due: The Brit has game.  
"More like sitting on your ass and talking about mushy feelings." Damon replied. "Most people pay for sex to _avoid_ that part of the process."  
"I don't." Bonnie threw back. Damon quirked an eyebrow. "What? I'm under no illusions about what we do - when it comes down to brass tacks, it's a business transaction, but that doesn't mean I have to like that you get up and leave straight after. Maybe Enzo's on to something."  
Enzo looked like the cat who'd got the cream.  
"Thank you, Bonnie. It's nice to have someone who gets it. These cretins wouldn't know romance if it bit them in the arse."  
His smile was infectious, and she found herself smiling back at him. Out of the corner of her eye, Damon's face had slipped into an expression she hadn't seen him wear before. Almost emotionless, but she could detect a hint of... something. If she didn't know better, she might think it was jealousy.  
  
"Anyway, I believe you still owe me a story, Damon."  
He seemed to relax a little when the attention was back on him.  
"I'm at a disadvantage here because I already tell you my funny stories. See? We do the talking thing."  
"Stories of your sexual escapades with other people?" Enzo added unhelpfully. "And they say romance is dead..."  
"Bite me, Casanova."  
"If you boys don't simmer down, I'll be forced to put you over my knee." Klaus chided.  
"Can I watch?" Bonnie asked.  
"I like her." He added.  
"Okay, so art lady?" Bonnie tried to steer the conversation back to the point.  
"Nah I used her last time."  
"Mormon lady?"  
"You're still seeing her?" Katherine threw in and Damon nodded. _So that's a no._  
"Ooh, I know - the gym!"  
Damon's eyes lit up. "Yes! Okay, so you guys remember I told you about the Jenna Jameson wannabe a few months back? The one that screamed like her ass was on fire?"  
"I remember. You were worried someone was going to call the police.” Enzo recalled.  
"Bingo. Well, turns out she goes to my gym. Unfortunately, so does her knuckle-dragger of a boyfriend."  
"If this doesn't end with you getting beaten up, I'm not interested." Katherine drawled.  
Damon ignored her and carried on. "So Pornstar Barbie is about as subtle as a brick to the face. She goes into panic mode the second she lays eyes on me, and I swear the only reason she isn't visibly sweating is all the botox. She does, unhelpfully, take a moment to fluff up her hair and it’s all I can do not to facepalm. He asks how we know each other, and per usual protocol I leave the excuse to the client, but after a bunch of stuttering where I think she isn't gonna be able to come up with anything, she says we go to the same tanning salon just at the same time I blurt out coffee shop. I mean tanning salon? Do I look like the kind of guy who skips on the SPF? My skin is flawless. Anyway, even no-neck Ken is apparently not that stupid, and I can hear the cogs turning as he looks between the two of us. I am bricking it, because this guy could kill me with his thumb. Although the ‘roid abuse probably explains a few things about why she looked elsewhere." He made a gesture with his pinky finger and they all sniggered knowingly. "Well, I so don't want to be there when his brain catches up, so I make some bullshit excuse about having to get to work - at 2am, because apparently incriminating myself is an art form - grab my stuff and get the hell out of dodge without even showering, because I don't fancy having another encounter with this guy, especially one where I'm naked. I leave my membership card on the counter and practically barrel into the cab. And that's why I needed gym recommendations a couple weeks back."  
"Your life is like a terrible sitcom." Klaus said. No-one argued.  
  
"So that leaves one more." She was still half-laid across Enzo, so she gave him a nudge with her knee. "Whatcha got for me?"

His first response was a raise of his eyebrows that she met with an eye roll.  
"Something that's guaranteed to net me the prize money. Well, less a cut for Damon."  
Everyone cast their glances to Damon, but he just looked puzzled. "Don’t look at me. I don't know what he's talking about - We haven’t worked together in a good 3 months."  
Bonnie fought to suppress the part of her brain that was rapid-firing images of what the two of them 'working together' might look like.  
"You know that shirt you lent me? It got a bit... Singed."  
"What the hell? Dude that was John Varvatos! I swear to god if you're about to tell me you were toasting marshmallows or some sappy shit... "  
"Not exactly. There may have been a fireplace and a bearskin rug, though."  
"Oh my god, that's so cliché it actually hurts." Katherine added, voice dripping with disdain.  
"It was romantic!" Enzo was defensive.  
"Maybe if you're Burt Reynolds in the 70s.” Damon snarked.  
"Oh I don't know. Wine, candles, 3rd degree burns..." Klaus mocked.  
"I can't believe you set my damn shirt on fire."  
"I can. It was bloody cold walking home without it."

Bonnie couldn't help it. She didn't know whether it was the mental image of Enzo walking home in the brisk morning chill without a shirt that set her off, or the thought of him brandishing a fire extinguisher in his birthday suit, but she burst into fits of giggles. They showed no sign of abating and a couple of seconds later, she was vaguely aware of the others throwing their wedges of money at the Brit - it was obvious who had won. She did notice Enzo siphoning off a chunk and throwing it back to Damon in recompense for his shirt.  
  
Bonnie wiped the tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes, before removing her legs from Enzo's lap and righting herself ready to stand.  
"And on that note, I think I need another drink."  
As she stood to head to the bar, Katherine grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard enough to almost be uncomfortable.  
"Enzo's feeling flush. He can get our next round in. You need the bathroom.  
"No I d-"  
The grip on her wrist tightened enough that she took the hint, following behind as Katherine half-dragged her to the ladies room.  
  
When the door clicked closed behind them, Katherine strode over to the mirror and began touching up her lipstick as she spoke.  
"I have to admit, you had me fooled for a while with the sweet and innocent act. You're good - Playing the two of them off against one another is a little obvious, granted, but it's working a treat. The way you have them scrabbling over one another is pathetic." She smacked her lips together and ran a nail around the edge to sharpen the line. 'What I can't work out is if you're using Enzo to get to Damon, or if you've taken a shine to our limey."  
"Using... What? I'm not _using_ anyone."  
Katherine whirled and smiled at her (and wasn't that a terrifying sight).  
"Come on, sweetie. You can drop the act. I invented this game."  
"What game? I don't know what you're talking about."  
Katherine's face slowly fell into a sneer.  
"Oh my god. Please, please don't tell me this is sheer dumb luck." She rolled her eyes. "Girl next door types. Ugh. If I wasn't so kind hearted, I'd leave you to keep groping around in the dark. You're lucky I have a soft spot for doe-eyed bitches with low self-esteem." She huffed and crossed her arms. "Which one do you want - Enzo or Damon?"  
"What? Look I don't know wh-"  
"Enzo or Damon?"  
The no-nonsense attitude radiating from Katherine like an aura was intimidating, but her attitude didn’t strike Bonnie as malicious. If anything, she thought she might even be trying to help.  
"Damon." It felt oddly freeing admitting out loud that she wished they were more than… whatever they were. “But I’m not naïve. It’s not like I’d have any chance with him without money changing hands. And I’m okay with that, so please don’t make this a thing.”   
Katherine fixed her with a look that made her feel 6 inches tall.   
“Wow, you are either completely blind or hopelessly stupid.” She put her lipstick back in her bag. “He’s obviously completely head over heels with you. It’s kind of sickening, actually.”   
“What?” It barely came out as a whisper   
“All of the above. Blind and stupid.” She made a dramatic sound of disapproval. “When he walked in the bar and saw you sitting there, he looked like Christmas had come early. You call him by his real name, reading between the lines it sounds like you guys actually talk _between_ appointments – about his other clients, no less. He introduced you to his friends. And when he’s not eye-fucking you, he has this kind of soupy pathetic look that makes me want to vom.” She sighed “So do you want him or not?”   
Bonnie was dumbstruck – her mind frantically processing the possibility that Damon might actually want her. Like _genuinely want_ her. The best she could manage in response to Katherine was a nod.

Before Bonnie could stop her, Katherine had a hand down the front of Bonnie's bra, pulling her breast up inside the cup.  
"What the hell are you doing?!"  
Katherine just made a sound of disapproval and repeated the process on the other side, withdrawing her hand and meeting it with her other at the front of Bonnie's dress, squeezing them together. She took one look in the mirror and her breasts looked plump and inviting in a way she'd paid a fortune over the years trying to get a Wonderbra to mimic - she decided there and then to submit to the assault with minimal fuss.  
"Best I can do with what little there is to work with." Katherine muttered. She moved a critical eye up to Bonnie's face and stepped back, grabbing a tissue from the counter and wiping off her lipstick vigorously. "In my purse, there's a vampy red that won't look awful on you. This shit looks like cake frosting. Cute if you're 12, not if you're in your twenties. Next time you pick a nude lip, match it to your nipples or your labia."  
Bonnie picked Katherine's discarded purse up from the counter.  
"I'll be sure to tell the cops that when I get arrested for indecent exposure at Sephora." Katherine's smirk was enough to make Bonnie wonder if she actually did use that method in public. She opened the bag, whose contents were minimal: Cell phone, keys, condoms, lube, and a few tubes of lipstick.  
Her eyes stuck on the bottle of lube taking up most of the tiny clutch. Katherine must have noticed her scrutiny.  
"Industry secret: Convincing them you're wet is half your job done for you. Now, lipstick."  
Bonnie pulled out the dark burgundy tube which wasn't dissimilar in colour to the wine she'd thrown over her date a short while ago, and Katherine took it from her, applying it to her lips in two artful, sweeping strokes. She smudged her lips together before taking another look in the mirror - the lipstick change and enhanced cleavage had ramped the sex appeal of her outfit up threefold.  
"You wearing underwear?"  
Bonnie was almost afraid to answer. "Yes?"  
"Put them in your purse." Bonnie looked at her incredulously, but Katherine just fixed her with a stare that said _'Take them off or I'll do it for you'_ , so reluctantly she stepped back and reached up her dress, hooked her fingers under her waistband, and pulled off her panties, quickly stuffing them in her purse.  
"What exactly does that achieve?"  
"You'll see." She appraised her handiwork. "Best I can do on short notice. When you get back to the table, focus on Enzo. Flirt with him, ignore Damon. If he speaks to you, acknowledge him, but turn your attention right back to Enzo. Got it?"  
Bonnie was thrown.   
"But it's Damon I want."  
"Duh." Katherine rolled her eyes like she was dealing with an idiot. "He'll see you making googly eyes at the budget version of him and get possessive. It's biology or something. Men are simple. Kind of like plants. Either way, play along and follow my lead and even you can't fuck this up."  
Bonnie got the impression that was Katherine's version of a pep talk. She nodded, took a deep breath, and headed back out to the bar.  
  
Bonnie tried to ignore the way her throat went dry as the male contingent of the table eyed her on her approach. Klaus and Enzo both definitely regarded her with renewed appreciation, but Damon wasn't even a little bit subtle in the way he looked her up and down. She felt like she may as well be wearing nothing but his fingerprints. Katherine’s words had her wondering now if he always looked at her so hungrily, but surely she would have noticed – wouldn’t she? She was doubly careful not to inadvertently flash everyone as she took her seat back beside Enzo. She followed Katherine's advice, engaging Enzo in conversation and keeping contact with Damon frosty and minimal. The first time she dismissed his attempt to join their dialogue, she caught a hint of a frown on his face. The second, she caught a flicker of something dark in his features that very obviously looked like jealousy – it seemed incredulous she’d not noticed it before. The third time, he looked utterly dejected. He didn't try a fourth. It felt awful - not just because it was like kicking a puppy, but because every fibre of her being was screaming how wrong it was. Enzo was a great conversationalist, and sure there were a few sparks - he was charming and sweet, it would be impossible not to feel something flirting with him. But it was nothing compared to the thick, sweet sexual tension that hung in the air like molasses when she and Damon were bantering back and forth – even just by text, it smouldered. Still, she kept it up, throwing in the odd brush of Enzo’s arm or touch at her neck to draw his eyes down. If Katherine was right, it would be well worth it.  
  
Swanky bars evidently didn't stay open as late as the lower-end establishments Bonnie was used to going to with her friends, and as closing time was approaching, the group decided to move out. There was a brief discussion about who was going where - Klaus wasn't one for crowds and was done for the night, Katherine was far from done for the night, and was moving on to a club she knew a short walk away and in no uncertain terms said that anyone who didn't join her was a pussy, Damon had been conspicuously quiet since she had dialled up the flirt with Enzo, and didn't state his intentions. Enzo turned to Bonnie with a raised eyebrow, waiting to see what her plans were. Clearly he thought he was getting lucky tonight.  
"It's been fun guys, but think I'm gonna head home."  
"Alone?" Katherine asked pointedly.  
"Yes, alone, thank you Katherine." She thought she caught a smirk on Damon's lips at the brief flash of disappointment in Enzo's face.

Katherine opened her purse and shoved her unlocked phone into Bonnie's hand.  
"Put in your number. If I get some alien urge to braid hair or talk about girl stuff, we can have lunch sometime." That was about as close to declaration of friendship as Katherine was capable of. Bonnie smiled and went to tap in her number. "You should take Enzo's, too. I'm sure if you had a free evening, he'd be more than happy to slot in."  
The blatant innuendo was enough that it almost made her blush, and she fixed Katherine with a look that said 'stop it'.  
The one she got back, paired with a knowing smirk, said 'trust me'.  
"Sure." She didn't want to give him her number, so she would take his. She juggled her bag into her free hand, handing it to Enzo. "Can you grab my phone out of there for me, please?"  
She was focused on using the unfamiliar keypad, and distantly heard her clutch being unzipped.

She had just clicked the 'save' button and was handing the phone back to Katherine when she caught the look of surprise on Enzo's face. She was very glad of her darker colouring to disguise the way her cheeks bloomed scarlet as he pulled out the discarded underwear she had forgotten shoving in there, eyebrow raised in question and lip curled up in amusement.  
"Now what have we here?"  
Damon's expression next to him was unreadable. There was lust evident - Bonnie knew that look on him well enough to recognise even the barest concealed glint of it in his eyes - but the remainder was a mystery. Katherine was feigning a look of shock, but the glint of mischief in her eyes told Bonnie this was her endgame all along.  
"Someone's feeling a little naughty." Katherine drawled. "Girl after my own heart." Bonnie glared daggers at her, but Katherine just hit her back with that smile that was equal parts conspiracy and chaos. Still blushing furiously, she grabbed her bag and the offending scrap of lace that was dangling from Enzo's hand, quickly stuffing the latter into the former. She pulled her phone out and tapped out a new contact for Enzo, leaving him just to enter his number. He handed it back to her, his fingertips brushing hers in a way that felt deliberate.  
  
"I can walk with you to the taxi rank?" Enzo phrased it as a question, clearly hoping for a little time alone to try and seal the deal before she left. Bonnie was torn - she didn't want to give him the wrong idea, but she also didn't feel confident walking it alone so late at night and after a couple of drinks.  
"I'll walk you." There was an undertone to Damon's curt statement that, although civil, was firm; he gave no illusion that he was asking. He fixed Enzo with a state that almost dared him to argue. "I'm headed in that direction anyway." He qualified.  
Bonnie couldn't lie - the possessiveness? A little bit hot. Enzo's eyes flicked to her, clearly hoping she would step in and express a preference for him. She didn't.  
"Works out well all round then." At least he conceded gracefully. He turned to face her properly. "Bonnie, it was a pleasure to meet you." He took her hand and raised it to his lips to place a kiss there. In the background, Katherine mimed sticking her fingers down her throat at the saccharine gesture, and Bonnie suppressed a smile. "I hope our paths cross again sometime."  
"Count on it." She offered him a last little flirty flutter of her lashes.  
She traded a polite goodbye with Klaus – the guy still kind of put her on edge, but he had been nothing but a gentleman. When Katherine leaned in, Bonnie thought she was going in for a hug (likely as a front to whisper something conspiratorial in her ear), but she had to smother down her shock when instead she felt warm, wet lips touch to hers. It was a seemingly innocent kiss, but nothing was ever what it seemed with Katherine.  
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  
On that (vaguely alarming) note, the group headed their separate ways.  
  
They walked the first few dozen steps in silence. Damon was the first to break it.  
"I don't know whether to congratulate you for how you did with my friends or apologise for them."  
She smiled. "They're kind of a lot, but I liked them."  
"All of them?"  
_Subtle... Not_. She decided to start small.  
"I'm a little scared of Klaus."  
"Smart girl." He smirked knowingly. "Katherine?"  
"Katherine is... A heinous bitch." Damon threw his head back in a laugh. "I think I kind of love her."  
"Not sure if the idea of you and Katherine together is legitimately frightening or super hot."  
"Little from column A, little from column B." She conceded.  
"And Enzo?" _There it was_.  
The question hung in the air. Katherine's tips hadn't covered this part.  
"He's nice."  
The vague platitude seemed like such a good idea in her head, but out loud it just sounded evasive. There was a palpable silence for a good 20 seconds, where there was nothing but the click of her heels on the sidewalk.  
"Are you gonna call him?" He sounded like he was aiming for nonchalant, but he was wide of the mark. He obviously realised as he winced a little. "On second thoughts, don't answer that."  
"Would you be okay with it if I did?" She asked tactically.  
"Plenty of my clients see other people. A lot of them are married."  
"That's not what I asked.  
"Honestly?... No, I wouldn't be okay with it.” His candour surprised her. “But it's not like I get a say in who you do or don’t date. I’m just the hired help, remember?"   
You’re not.”   
“I should be.” He heaved a sigh. “But it seems like no matter how hard I try, things are never strictly business between us.”   
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say to that.   
“Don’t be. I’m not.” He gave a small smile. “I probably should be, but I’m not.” He jostled her playfully with his shoulder. She returned the favour.   
"And what if I wanted to see him professionally?" She tried to keep her voice neutral, though a hint of a smile crept through.

  
“Now you’re just fucking with me.”=  
“I could be fucking with _him_.”  
“You could.” He said, nonchalantly. “I mean, Enzo has a lot going for him: He’s handsome. He’s good at his job. He’s got that accent going on.” She wondered where he was going with this. “You _could_. But you won’t  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ at the end.  
“And why’s that?”  
He stepped ahead of her and span to face her, walking backwards.  
“One very simple reason.” He halted abruptly in front of her, and she had to stop suddenly to avoid colliding with him. He stepped into her like his body was made to mould to her, hips slotted against hers, hard chest pressed against her breasts. He lifted his hand to her face and swept her hair aside, a hair’s breadth between their lips, and those fierce blue eyes burning into hers. “Because he’s not me.”  
The arrogance should have been a turn off, but… Well, he wasn’t wrong. She’d been practically sat in Enzo’s lap all night and barely felt a spark, but now her body was burning with anticipation just from mere _seconds_ this close to Damon.

He strung her along for a few seconds: Until he put her out of her misery, it was like all she knew was her heartbeat pounding in her ears, the feel of his breath on her lips, and the brutal intensity of his eyes. He licked his lips and for a second she thought he would cross that final line and kiss her. It was only when he spoke, his touch trailing down her face to rest at the crook of her neck for a moment before dropping back to her sides, that whatever magic had held her to his gaze finally broke.   
“This is my stop. Taxi rank’s across the street. Unless…” He hesitated, licking his lips. _Was he… Is it possible he was nervous?_   
“Unless what?” She encouraged.   
He took in a breath. “Unless… Do you want to come up?”   
“Is that allowed?”   
“No.” He answered, matter-of-factly. “So, do you?”   
“Of course I do. But…” It was her turn to hesitate. Her body was screaming at her to just shut up and go with it, but she couldn’t silence the voice in the back of her mind telling her he could probably get fired for this.   
“You’ve had me breaking every rule I have since the first day I met you.” He countered, not waiting for her to try and put voice to her objections. “What’s one more?” She bit her lip, half-hoping it might quell the butterflies in her stomach (it didn’t) and nodded slowly. A half-smile bloomed on his lips and he cocked his head towards the building to her left – a simple but stylish-looking apartment block. “C’mon.”

Taking one step backward before turning away, he led her inside.


	9. Chapter 9

Damon led Bonnie through a set of glass doors and an immaculate lobby to a set of elevators. The building was simple and elegant, and Bonnie was quietly impressed by the modern, clean aesthetic. He pressed the button for the 18th floor – not quite the penthouse, but high enough that she’d bet the view was spectacular. The elevator ride was unnervingly quiet, and she didn’t know what to make of Damon’s silence.   
“Penny for your thoughts?”   
His eyes flicked over to meet hers, hand moving to rub the back of his neck.   
“Would you believe me if I said I was nervous?” She raised an eyebrow in question. “It’s been a while since I brought someone home.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. “This is me.”   
He reached into his pocket for his keys, sliding them into a door on the right with a name on it – Salvatore. It brought her to the sudden realisation she had never slept with a guy without knowing his last name before, but hadn’t batted an eyelid about Damon. _Damon Salvatore_ – it was another piece of the puzzle.

Bonnie walked into an expansive open plan apartment, hearing the door click shut as he leaned on it and watched her take the place in. It had a unique style – a fusion of classic and modern, dark wood panelling contrasting with bright metallics and clean lines, that just… suited him. The kitchen was sleek and modern (and, unlike hers, showed signs of frequent use – bottles of oils, racks of spices, actual living herb plants), and one far corner of the room was comprised of a small library’s worth of bookshelves. There was a door off to the left that was ajar just enough that she could see a sliver of crisp white sheets that made her heart skip a beat in anticipation. But her eyes snagged on two things in particular: First the piano (from the sinful dexterity of his fingers, she should’ve guessed he played an instrument), then the _view_ …

The entire back wall of the apartment was floor-to-ceiling windows: A blank canvas for the city below: All bright light and sumptuous shadow, vibrant and pulsing with life.   
“Is the reason you haven’t had anyone up here in so long because the last one had a heart attack looking out the window?”   
She heard him huff a laugh. Her eyes were glued to the panorama – she could spend hours just watching the world go by from here. She flicked her gaze back briefly when she heard sounds of movement and clinking glass in the kitchen to see him pouring two glasses of wine, but her eyes were quickly dragged back to the city lights. She almost didn’t hear him approach, barely registering him handing over her glass.   
“Maybe it’s ‘cos they spent too long looking at the view instead of me.” He dug her in the ribs so she couldn’t miss the pointed remark.   
“Sorry. It’s just so beautiful I can hardly take my eyes off it.”   
”I know how you feel.”   
His gaze was fixed squarely on one thing, and it wasn’t the view. She rolled her eyes.   
“Smooth.”   
“Hey, I warned you it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”   
“Oh, yeah.” Her sarcasm was palpable. “It must’ve been what, 24 hours since the last time you had sex?”   
”Actually I took a job this morning, so closer to 12.” He smirked. “But that was professional, not recreational."   
"Because the two are so profoundly different?" She challenged.  
"While I will concede there are some obvious similarities, yes, it's different."  
"How?" She asked incredulous. "Aside from the money changing hands and a generally higher expectation, what exactly is different? Enlighten me."  
"How many people have you had sex with?"  
"Quantity doesn't count as a difference."  
"Not where I'm going with this. How many?" He pressed.  
She wasn't sure if her number was higher or lower than average, and she didn't even want to know how it compared with his.  
"Eight." She said hesitantly.  
"Okay." To her mild relief, he made no comment on her number, nor did his expression contain any judgement. "And of those eight, how many did you refuse to kiss on the mouth?" He sort of had her there. "I hate that, by the way."  
She had to do a double-take. "What?"  
"The 'no kissing' thing. I hate it. It drives me crazy not being able to kiss you. Sometimes I think you do that lip biting thing you do just to see if you can break my resolve. ” Bonnie was stunned. She'd put the kissing rule into place to protect herself - to make sure she never forgot what they had wasn't real. She hadn't even considered that it might affect him at all. She didn’t know what to say. “Not that I'd ever be allowed to tell you that, of course, or tell you anything else I liked or disliked for that matter. Or leave marks on you, wear cologne, stay the night... Still think there isn't a difference?"

She didn't respond. She was busy racking her brains to remember a time when he had expressed an opinion related to sex or intimacy before tonight – or when (on the rare occasion she had thought to ask) he had responded to her questions on the topic with anything other than _'it's not about me'_ \- and she was coming up blank. He knew her body better than she did herself, could make her knees weak with a well-placed brush of his fingers, and she couldn’t say the same about him. She didn't like how that made her feel.  
  
"Hey." It wasn't until his fingers gently lifted her chin that she snapped out of her self-deprecating haze. "I see what you're doing and you can cut that shit out now. You have nothing to feel bad about - I was just making a point."  
"What... What else didn't you like?" Her voice came out quiet - like her body was rejecting asking the question. But she had to know, even if she didn’t like the answer.  
"I said stop-"  
"What else, Damon?" Her interruption was more forceful.  
"You really wanna know?"  
She wasn’t sure.   
"Please."  
"Okay.” He exhaled, taking a seat on the sofa, setting his glass down. He leaned forward on his knees, as if to invite her to join him. Tentatively, she took the seat next to him. “I can't stand it when you silence yourself. You may have noticed I have a bit of an ego, so I _love_ hearing what I'm doing to you; you have no idea how much it drives me nuts hearing you actually _suppress_ it.” Bonnie’s cheeks heated a little – she knew he had an, um, _appreciation_ , for her enjoyment (she didn’t think she’d ever forget how turned on he’d been after going down on her), but she’d always been insecure about her sounds. She was going to say as much, but clearly he wasn’t done. “I hate having to get up and leave straight after we’re done, and knowing you hate it as much as I do doesn’t make it any easier. I'm not wild about getting texts from you in the middle of the week where you're obviously tense and I know there isn't a damn thing I can do about it until Friday. And I know we covered the kissing thing already, but it warrants repeating because I _cannot tell you_ how much I loathe that." Bonnie had been bracing for the worst – she hadn’t expected- "Oh, and your mattress sucks."  
"What's wrong with my mattress?" Her answer was pure reflex.  
"It’s way too soft. Great for lie-ins, terrible for sex."   
“So what you’re saying is that I should expect better sex in _your_ bed?” She taunted.   
“It’s optimistic of you to think we’ll make it to the bed.” He followed the statement up with a look that seemed designed to melt panties, and it made her acutely aware she was no longer wearing any.

She wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or the way Damon was looking at her, or just that the anticipation was killing her that made her feel bold. She drained the rest of her wine and leaned forward to put the empty glass on the table, but instead of sitting back, she slid her knee up onto the sofa and lifted her other to straddle his lap.   
“So tell me about what you like.”   
“Well, this seems like a good place to start.” She felt like if she rolled her eyes any more, it would constitute a workout routine. He took the hint and started talking, his hands sliding up her thighs and skimming over her hips. “I like that I can’t figure you out. I like it when you take control, but I also enjoy making you lose it occasionally. I love the way you say my name – whether it’s through passion or exasperation.” She smiled at that. “I love going down on you. I like it when you’re a little rough with me.” One hand snaked up her back, trailing the exposed skin there. “And _usually_ , I like that you keep me guessing.”   
That was too pointed to ignore.   
“’Usually’?” His hand at her neck had her close enough to share his breath. “When don’t you?”  
”When I’m trying to figure out if it’s okay to kiss you or not when we’re off the clock.”

Bonnie was apprehensive - she wasn't sure if it was the bad kind or the good kind though. She desperately wanted to kiss him - _burned_ for it, in point of fact - but wasn't sure if crossing that line would do more harm than good. Her heart had a tendency to rule her head and lead her astray if left unchecked, and so she had put that rule in for self-preservation: To stop her from deluding herself that what happened between the two of them was anything more than a business arrangement. But it _was_ more than that now... wasn't it? This was his free time, his apartment, his unpaid fingers skimming her thighs in a way that somehow, without rushing her, made her want to skip the agonising over some stupid kiss and just impale herself on the hardening cock underneath her... Moreover, it was his own (genuine, intense) lust in his eyes: They were - for once - on equal footing.

But even that wasn't enough to silence her doubts. When she fell, she fell _hard_ , and Damon was both someone she could see herself falling for, and someone she knew she definitely shouldn't. Okay so maybe he wanted her tonight, but would things be the same in the harsh light of day? What if this was just a one off, and it would be business as usual next week? She didn't know how she would deal with that. Damon's voice and his lips at the hollow of her throat derailed her train of thought  
"You're thinking too hard." He murmured against her skin, a flick of his tongue against her neck making her insides clench. If he kept that up, she wouldn't be able to think at all.  
"I don't... It's not - Ah!" Her words twisted into a moan as he pressed up against her centre in time with a hard press of his lips at her neck. She just needed his mouth to let up for a second so she could form a sentence.  
"Forget it. Let's just have fun, okay?"  
It was so, _so_ tempting to do exactly that... if it weren't for the disappointment and rejection evident in his tone. It was almost physically painful to pull away from him and push him back.  
"Why does it bother you so much?"  
He laughed, but there was no humour it in it.  
"It's stupid, it doesn't matter." She fixed him with a look that said she wasn’t taking no for an answer. He looked down. "Considering what I'm paid to do, I've never felt... used... before. But that's what it feels like when you won't kiss me. It feels like I'm not worthy of being treated like a person." He sighed, and lifted his eyes back to meet hers, a hint of silver at the edges of those endless blue depths. "For one night I just wanted it to feel real, y'know?"  
  
Bonnie felt something crack inside of her at his admission. She had been so caught up in overthinking how to protect her heart, but right now her heart didn't feel protected at all: She didn't think it had ever felt more vulnerable.  
She was officially done thinking.  
Wordlessly and deliberately, she leaned into him, a thin curtain of her hair falling alongside her cheek, closing them off from the bright lights of the city below. She moved close enough that he couldn't mistake her intentions, brushing her nose against his. Damon's hesitancy was palpable: Instead of closing the space between them, he reached a hand up and brushed her hair out of the way behind her ear. The message behind the silent gesture was as clear to her as if he had spoken aloud:  
_Are you sure?_.  
She bit her lip, knowing from his own admission that it drove him crazy, slowly releasing it from between her teeth and nuzzling his nose with hers again, eyelids dropping shut, hoping her response was equally clear:  
_Please_.

The first featherlight brush of Damon's lips against hers could scarcely be called a kiss at all. The barest caress of pillow-soft skin was so gentle, so tentative, that in reality it was barely tangible, but Bonnie felt the impression of it sear into her like a brand, claiming her in the same inimitable way he had claimed every other square inch of her skin. Somehow in spite of the brevity and innocence of it, it didn't feel at all chaste - it was teasing and brimming with promise, and left Bonnie desperate for more. When their lips met a second time, it was still delicate - still unhurried and gentle - like he was savouring it. His hand slid around to cradle her neck, fingers massaging her scalp in tiny teasing motions that echoed the movements of his lips - pressing just a touch more firmly in a way that made her moan. The contrast of the restrained nature of the kiss and the insistence of his erection against her bare core had her aching, and she ran her tongue over Damon's bottom lip in a silent plea for more, earning a moan of pure need and an instinctive press of his hips that had her keening. He deepened the kiss immediately, the firm and urgent press of his lips and the gentle, teasing exploration of his tongue feeding the flame in her to a roaring inferno. He wasn't just kissing her, he was _tasting_ her, exploring her with a lazy curiosity that couldn't help but evoke memories of what that same tongue had wrought on the rest of her body. Even his taste - a faint hint of smoke, mint, and something uniquely him, barely detectable through the taste of the wine - was borderline addictive. At one point, his mouth caught her invading tongue and sucked, and she convulsed against him. His hands weren't idle either - at first, one had chastely cradled her head and neck, while the other rested gently at her back. Now, the hand that was at her neck had teased its way into her hair, twisting in the strands and pulling just hard enough to convey his need and evoke her own. Meanwhile, the hand that was at her back had crept down over her ass, squeezing firmly in a way that ground her against him, and was leaving burning fingerprints hot on her thigh - so, so close to where she was craving friction. She felt his teeth worry at her lower lip at the same time as his nails bit half-moons into her thigh and she let out a noise of pure desperation. Bonnie had never experienced a kiss like this: One that was simultaneously too much and nowhere near enough. Her body was responding in spades, though, and given long enough she reckoned she could come just from this. He broke from her mouth and she sucked in a desperate breath (her need for Damon clearly took priority over her need for oxygen now), his mouth burning a trail down her throat. He paused at her pulse point, flicking out his tongue in a way that made her clench involuntarily at the emptiness inside her, and had her considering opening his fly and just fucking him fully clothed on the couch. She ground down on him in a desperate search for friction - so, so close to blissful she could hardly stand it. In answer, he moved both his hands down to her ass and pressed her hard against him just as he sucked hard on her pulse point. She would have a hickey for sure, but couldn't find it in her to give a damn, as that flicker of pain amidst an avalanche of pleasure was almost unbearable without him inside her. She let out a breathy " _fuck_ ", her thighs tightening around him and her fingernails biting into his skin. Bonnie had the feeling that, like most things between them, this had turned into a kind of competition to see who could hold out the longest, but she was ready to admit defeat.  
"Bedroom." She ground out "Now."  
"Oh thank god." He breathed against her neck. "I was literally 2 seconds from saying ‘uncle’."  
He met her eyes with a playful smirk, but his breathing was ragged and his pupils were blown black with lust. _At least I gave as good as I got_ , she mused as she gave him a playful swat on the arm.  
  
Their progress to the bedroom was slow, with Damon pausing to push her against every available vertical surface with bruising, urgent kisses and filthy, rapturous presses of his body against hers. By the time they eventually made it the short distance to the bedroom, Bonnie was coiled like a spring with anticipation. She was desperate to feel him skin to skin, but when she saw the bed laid out in front of her like a stairway to heaven she had an idea she couldn't resist. She turned in his hold so her back was against him, and just as she hoped, his mouth came to rest at her neck as he slowly dragged the zipper of her dress down. He slid it off her shoulders and it fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked before him. She took a second to appreciate the small sound of appreciation he made as he realised she hadn't been wearing anything at all underneath (and was sorely tempted to turn around and see the primal look she knew the sight would have incited in his eyes) before walking back to where the bed met her knees, sitting back. He went to follow, to lean himself over her, but she raised a foot against his chest to stop him following her. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't question as she scooted back up the centre of the bed, propping herself up on the pillows when she reached the headboard.  
"Undress." She instructed.  
A smirk crept onto Damon's features as he got on the same page.  
"Feeling nostalgic?" He wasted no time, starting by undoing the buttons at his wrists.  
Bonnie smiled in return.   
"Something like that."   
She’d hoped he would make the connection to their first night at Indigo, but this wouldn’t be a play by play. Going into that room with him all those months ago, she had been conflicted, hesitant and unsure; she wasn’t now. As she watched him strip, she ran a hand over herself, teasing at her breast while she bit her lip. When her stuttered gasp caught his attention, he paused partway through unbuttoning his shirt, eyes darkening as they drank in the sight of her. She didn’t hesitate under his scrutiny – her hand didn’t shake and her attentions didn’t waver – meeting his eye as her hand ventured down and dipped into her slick; she only wished she’d had the courage to do this that first night. After a couple of charged moments, he continued, and she suppressed a smile at the way his fingers seemed to move with slightly more urgency. She savoured running her eyes over his body as it was revealed piece by piece like she was seeing it for the first time.

With the last whisper of fabric hitting the floor, Bonnie drew her fingers from herself as he crawled up the bed, laying himself over her. Damon took her wrist in his hand and brought her hand up to his lips, taking the two fingers she had inside her into his mouth and sucking them clean and moaning at their taste as he pressed his body down on her. Bonnie withdrew her fingers and slid the freed hand into his hair, pulling him forward to reclaim his mouth and arching her back up to press her chest harder into his torso. Even tough they had gone months without ever kissing, his lips were her new addiction and she couldn’t get enough, and when combined with the sensation of him grinding down on her with nothing but skin between them, she all but combusted under him. When he slid a hand between them to line himself up with her entrance, she pulled back to suck in an anticipatory breath – it was like getting to the top of a roller coaster and waiting for the drop – and Damon didn’t miss a beat in roving his lips down her throat. He pressed into her in one long, languorous stroke, making her cry out in a broken sound she barely recognised as her own voice. His hand found hers, trembling fingers twining with hers and squeezing, gently grounding her. Bonnie had always rolled her eyes when she read smutty books and they said about bodies fitting together like they were made for one another, but she got it now; it felt like a single millimetre more would have stretched her to the point of pain, but as it was she could feel every tremor of his restraint as he gave her time to adjust. There weren’t words for how perfect he felt inside her and against her. He ran kisses as gentle as a butterfly’s wing up her neck and along the line of her jaw, lips coming up to brush her own in the softest of kisses, and fiercely beautiful blue eyes burning into hers.

He started with a slow rocking of his hips that had her shaking, but after a few thrusts, intensity gave way to desire, and she began to match his languid movements with her own - His shuttered intake of breath the first time her hips rose to meet him the only motivation she needed. Damon’s hand still pressed one of hers into the mattress; the other she threaded into his hair, drawing a soft, needy sound against her lips as she twisted her fingers in the inky black strands. He started to move with more urgency, still moving with a torturously measured pace, but pulling back further before sinking so deep into her it made her eyes roll back. When he was fully seated, he would grind hard against her, rolling against her clit before drawing back and doing it all over again. Her breaths started to come deeper, and when they turned from exhaled sighs to breathy moans, she resisted the urge to stifle them in his neck or against his lips, knowing he drew his pleasure from the evidence of hers. The impact of her vocality was written in every single look he gave her, every time their bodies met: Even though they were as close as two people could get, it was like it wasn’t enough. Bonnie could relate. She’d been aching for him all night, so it didn’t take long for the pressure inside her to build to an almost unbearable intensity. She squeezed the hand entwined with hers, nails biting into his skin to draw his focus.   
“If that means what I think it means,” his sentence was punctuated by another masterful thrust that pushed every button she had and then some, “then this is gonna be embarrassingly quick.”   
She could hear it in his voice. She couldn’t blame him – the build up had been unbelievably intense, and the fact that even _he_ was struggling to keep it together was testament to that. Still, it could be over this very second and she wouldn’t have minded – it still put every other lover she’d had to shame.   
“Yeah, this is s- _ah!-_ such a let down. Can’t you tell how d-disappointed I am?” Snark was hard to get across when you barely retained the power of speech, but somehow she managed.  
She felt his shaky laugh.   
“Can’t have that. M’not out of tricks yet, though.”

Bonnie let out a surprised squeal as he flipped them over. She didn’t have time to be disappointed at the loss of him when he slipped out of her as she struggled to maintain her balance, finding herself maneuvered by strong arms (now wrapped hard around her thighs) into position, thighs astride his face. Without a second’s hesitation, he latched on to her clit and sucked hard, drawing a sound from her that bordered on a scream. His fingers pressed into her thighs hard enough to bruise as he sucked, laved, and lapped at her with a single-minded ferocity. Her hands sought purchase wherever they could find it, one settling in his hair as the other braced against his headboard. He’d gone down on her dozens of times before, but now she knew what it felt like to kiss him, it was like she was feeling everything for the first time. The way his tongue flicked inside her, the way his lips felt closing around her clit… She knew those movements more intimately now than ever before. When he slid not one, but _three_ fingers inside her (any less and she would have felt cheated after the heavenly stretch of his cock) and crooked them one by one just as she felt the barest scrape of teeth on her clit, she came hard. She half-screamed his name and her fingers clasped desperately in his hair as he worked her through it, the gentle vibration of his moan reverberating through every nerve in her body as he pressed her so tight to his face she wondered how he could even breathe, only loosening when her aftershocks had ceased.

Bonnie should have been boneless and spent; instead she found that her desire was far from quenched. Her orgasm had been strong, but without Damon inside of her, it left her wanting. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. Before she knew it, she was on her back again with a familiar and welcome weight between her legs. He eased one of her knees up and over his shoulder before pressing back into her. The position combined with the after effects of her orgasm made for an impossibly tight fit, and she would have laughed at the litany of profanity that spewed from his lips if it wasn’t for the fact it had a similar impact on her. Pulling him into a fierce, needy kiss, she tasted her own pleasure on his mouth, laced with that unique taste of him she now couldn’t get enough of. The break had given him enough reprieve that he could fuck into her without immediately losing control, and he seemed determined to take full advantage of that while he could, delving into her mouth and body like she was his salvation – like he was worshiping her body with his. She felt every inch of him in her, and everywhere their skin touched was like wildfire; her hands roamed impatiently, unsure whether they were best placed feeling the muscles of his shoulder, gripping at his arms, or pressing at his backside to drive him impossibly deeper. His length dragged inside of her, stroking her g-spot, and she knew it wouldn’t take long for her to be thrown over the edge again, only this time, she wanted to feel him fall with her. She could already feel herself cresting, those telltale flames flickering under her skin and pooling at her core. With a little reluctance, she broke their kiss, and his eyes flickered open to meet hers.   
“You okay?”   
“Stupid question.” She sighed and he huffed a laugh she felt through her whole body. “You?”   
“Equally stupid question.” He hooked a hand under her ass and pressed her up into him, making her breath hitch, brushing his lips against hers in a teasing echo of their kisses.   
“So close.” She breathed. “You with me?”   
“Always.”   
She kept her eyes fixed to his until she felt herself crest and they fell closed in rapture. His mouth found hers again and they swallowed one anothers’ cries of pleasure as her release triggered his and she felt his warmth surge into her as they fell like dominoes.

\---

The room was doused in a comfortable silence, save for the echo of their breaths in the air. Damon eased her leg off of his shoulder and she sighed a little as he withdrew. He pulled the duvet up around her so she wouldn't get cold - the tenderness of the gesture warming her as much as the quilt itself - and laid himself down next to her, fingers trailing over her sensitised skin without saying a word. The companionable silence and afterglow could only last so long though before Bonnie's bladder protested. She was struck by a sudden wave of panic as she realised she didn't know what the expectation was from here. Would he expect her to leave? Could she ask to stay? What if he said no - would things be awkward? Or would things be awkward in the morning if she did stay? Her brain wasn't capable of navigating all this considering it was all but pouring out of her ears ten minutes ago. She sighed - however things went, she still needed to use the bathroom either way, so she couldn't avoid the subject forever. Extricating herself from Damon's arms and the bed, she headed to the bathroom and shut the door. Whatever happened, it could wait until she came out. After using the bathroom, she took a few extra minutes to clean up and straighten up her hair, honestly more out of a desire not to face the music than anything (Damon had definitely seen her looking more disheveled before). Much as she was dreading it, she couldn't delay much longer, so she forced in a steadying breath before opening the door to face the music.

Damon was asleep, face down and with his arm looped under the pillow. He looked different: Innocent and unguarded - which made unwelcome feelings (feelings you definitely shouldn't have for someone when your connection was purely based on sex) swell up in Bonnie's chest. She could blame it on her hormones going crazy, but she knew she wouldn't be fooling anyone, least of all herself. Now he was asleep, she was left with a dilemma. She couldn't talk to him, so either she scooped up her dress and heels and went home, or...  
Just as she thought it, he stirred, and she hardly dared to breathe in case he woke. She watched the way his arm cradled the pillow, wishing it was her he was holding so close, the way his nose turned into the soft fabric and she wished it was her neck. Suddenly, it was abundantly clear to Bonnie that she would have far more to regret from not taking the chance than she would if he kicked her out. Biting her lip, she rounded the bed and slipped under the covers as quietly as she could.

At first, he seemed to tense up at the unfamiliar presence in his bed, and mentally she braced herself for the worst, barely daring to breathe. She needn't have worried, as after a few moments, he curled around her like a contented cat, pulling her in tight to him. He pressed a small kiss to her cheek - enough to let her know he wasn't quite as asleep as she'd thought - and a warm tingle pulsed through her in response. It wasn't sexual, it was... more. She couldn't admit even to herself what that 'more' might be. Bonnie felt a comfort that had nothing to do with the high thread count sheets or fluffy pillows and allowed herself to relax into his hold, letting the rhythm of his soft breaths lull her to sleep in his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

Bonnie woke in the night to the feel of very familiar, firm body wrapped around her. It was still dark out, and at first she thought she must have woken because of the unfamiliar surroundings, but it didn't take long for her to figure out that wasn't the reason at all. All her grogginess evaporated in an instant to the sensation of a hot, urgent kiss pressed into her neck, and she became very, _very_ aware that the warm body behind her was firm in more ways than one. In case she somehow mistook his intent, Damon ground hard against her backside, sliding the hand hooked under her up over her breast and the one over her down her inner thigh. Her body was tingling and aching in all the right places as if it had been on a knife-edge all night from having him pressed to her back. Her lust was itching under her skin like she was an hour into foreplay with no payoff, and almost immediately she was panting with need as if the intensity forced the air from her lungs. When his hand caressed its way towards the apex of her thighs, she pressed back against him and opened her legs a little - enough for clever fingers to slip between.

She let out a breath that was almost a squeak as two fingers ran the length of her before delving straight into her slit to the hilt without a hint of resistance. She'd had no idea she was so wet, and evidently he hadn't expected the extent of it either (not if the breathy “ _fuck_ ” muttered against her neck was anything to go by). He worked her slowly and thoroughly, curling his fingers in against her g-spot and then dragging them out to circle over her clit and back the way they came, allthewhile rocking himself against her backside, teasing at her breasts until her nipples were almost painfully hard, and roving kisses along her throat, up behind her ear, and down over her collarbone and shoulder. At first, her hands just traced over his arms, grasping hard on that first dip inside her to show that her urgency matched his, then trailing down his arm to urge him impossibly harder and further into her. One then found its way behind her and into his hair, pulling his focus away from her neck and into more of those addictive kisses she wondered how she had ever lived without.

Neither of them had the stomach for too much foreplay, and it was almost a relief when Damon withdrew his fingers, sliding his hand back behind her to line himself up. He entered her with one roll of his hips, and it was nothing short of incredible. Bonnie hadn't realised just how sensitive she was from earlier, and every nerve ending inside her lit up like Christmas all the way along his length. The sensitivity was just a hair's breadth away from too much, and when he gave his first tentative thrust, her hand shot to twist in the pillowcase next to her, teeth sinking lightly into her lower lip to muffle something like a whimper as her muscles involuntarily quivered. It felt so, _so_ good, she didn't have words for it. A hand reached over her to wrap around hers where it fisted in the linen, before resuming that gentle rocking motion that made her whole body spasm like she was being exorcised. It was ridiculous, really; he was wrapped so tightly around her that he was barely moving at all, but what those movements were doing inside her was just so much _more_ than it had any right to be. They had never done this - from behind - before, and Bonnie had never favoured it, because it always seemed somehow impersonal. But this was a million miles from what she had experienced before, from what she could ever have imagined. It was impossible for two people to be any closer than they were at this moment, and the intimacy wasn't lost on her. It should have felt wrong to be doing this with someone she had a solely sex-based relationship with, but she couldn't imagine it being like this with anyone else. Couldn't imagine anyone else fitting her body so perfectly - anyone else's breath on her neck, her back, her cheek. A tear actually sprang in the corner of her eye, and the only reason she could have given was euphoria.

All that marked the passage of time was the sound of their breaths echoing in the quiet, but she knew from the tightening in her belly that it had been long enough for her to be hovering on the edge. Part of he just wanted him to keep moving like this, touching he like this until they both starved, but the rational side of her that had dimmed to near-imperceptibility told her this couldn't go on forever. His hand was trembling when it detached from hers, snaking down her torso to the juncture of her thighs.

Unconsciously, Bonnie clamped down on those fingers the second their fevered touch hit her skin. She heard Damon's stuttered exhale of restraint as she distantly realised his hand wasn't all she was squeezing, but his fingers were still moving and all she could think about was the feeling bubbling up inside her with the intensity of a dam about to burst. She was shocked as her cresting was met by the sharp bite of teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, the near-violence of the sensation contrasting with the slow-burn of their union and dragging her over the edge. She couldn't have told you who came first - it was practically simultaneous - but her pleasure fed his, milking him for every drop of his release, and his in turn spurred hers as he buried himself impossibly deeper, wet warmth flooding into her. It was, hands down, the best sex of her life (and those standards had been well and truly rewritten by Damon in the past few weeks as it was). As the two of them came down from their high, finally separating and laying on their backs as they caught their breath, she caught a flash of blue eyes piercing the darkness, searching for her own. When he found her, he reached a hand across to brush her shoulder.  
"M'glad you stayed."  
She couldn't disagree.

\---

Bonnie shouldn’t have been surprised that she woke first: After all, she was usually an early riser, and Damon’s working life meant he was more… _active_ at night, so it wasn’t surprising he liked a lie in. His arm was hooked over her protectively, but he didn’t stir as she wriggled her way out to use the bathroom. She again contemplated leaving, but thinking back to the night before and how content she’d felt in his arms, and that soft whisper telling her he was glad she’d stayed, she decided against it. Also, strange as it sounded, it kind of bothered her that she’d never seen Damon in daylight; she wondered if his eyes looked different in the sun. So she settled for putting on a pot of coffee and his shirt and waiting him out. She watched the (still unbelievable) view of the city while she drank her coffee. When she got up to grab a second cup, she stood in the doorway and watched him sleep for a while. She wasn’t sure if it was crossing a line or something watching him in that way, but he was so unguarded, so beautiful like that, that she didn’t want to look away. 

After a while, he rolled over, and at first she thought he might be waking, but his eyes remained closed and his breathing deep. His stretch pulled the white sheet low on his waist taut over him, leaving his sculpted chest exposed and the sheet tented by his morning wood. Bonnie’s lip caught in her teeth – even sated as she was after last night (in fact, she would probably be feeling him for a few days), he still made for a mouth-watering sight. A mischievous thought entered her mind, and she felt herself flush for a moment thinking about it.   
_No, I couldn’t…_   
But the thought proved intrusive, and the more it crept in, the more she wanted to do it.

Quietly, Bonnie set down her coffee mug and made her way to the bed, treading softly on the balls of her feet. She lowered herself slowly onto the mattress next to him, but he didn’t stir. Carefully, she lifted the sheet from him and moved it lower; she kept her eyes on his face initially, hoping he wouldn’t wake just yet, and only when she was confident he would remain sleeping soundly did she let her eyes trail down that perfect body, over his muscled chest and toned abdomen, and following the tantalising dark trail down past the V of his hips, to where his thick erection rested, now exposed to the air and her gaze. She licked her lips and reached her hand over, brushing her fingertips tentatively over the velvet-soft skin. His cock bobbed pleasingly in response, but his face betrayed no sign of waking. Slowly, she teased him with soft touches to full hardness, hesitating only a little when he stirred in his sleep - hips canting just a little alongside a soft, pleased exhale – but it was just his body responding subconsciously to the touch. It was the signal she needed, lowering herself gently across him. After the first gentle flick of her tongue, she was sure she had woken him when his cock jerked and a soft moan pierced the quiet, and her eyes darted to his face to check, but it was a false alarm. Content to continue, she alternated light caresses of her fingers with brief teases of her tongue and moistened lips. His breathing became shallower when she pressed a wet kiss to the tip, and continued in sharp half-pants when she slid her tongue across the slit. He had to be close to waking now, so she slid her hand under his length, lifting him just enough to take the head of his cock in her mouth. She turned her glance upward as she closed her lips around him and sucked gently.

Damon’s whole body tensed, his brow furrowing in something between pleasure and confusion as he let out a moan that Bonnie felt in her whole body. His eyes snapped open and he looked down to identify the cause. Bonnie took that moment as an opportunity to sink down as far as she could take him, and was rewarded by an involuntary jerk of his hips and a filthy litany of swear words that almost made her blush. Her lips curved around him in a smug smile she couldn’t quite suppress, and she eased back off of him, swirling her tongue around the tip as she released him, shooting him a sultry look.   
“Good morning.”   
He was half-breathless and flustered, and she bit down on her lip to keep from laughing and spoiling the moment. He was always so put together; she’d never seen him like this.   
She liked it. _A lot_.   
“Definitely is so far.” He quipped. 

Now that he was conscious, she let herself handle him with more intent, his eyes fluttered closed again and his head tipped back when she tightened her grip, sliding her mouth back down around him. It occurred to her that, given he hadn’t had ‘recreational’ sex in a while, it was a pretty solid bet it had been a while since anyone had done this for him, so she resolved to make it good. Repositioning herself onto her knees, she settled between his thighs, holding him more upright and sinking back down, she moaned around him, enjoying the way his fingers twisted in the sheets in response. She even caught his eye when he looked back down, making sure to give him a show as she built a steady rhythm. Bonnie was taking so much pleasure in watching his that she lost herself in it, shocked out off it only when she felt his hand over the one she had wrapped around him, gently pulling her away.   
“Stop. Bon, stop.”   
She pulled herself clear of him, looking up at him in concern.   
“What is it? Am I doing something wrong?” She felt a wave of embarrassment. She was an amateur and he was a pro, of _course_ he wouldn’t be satisfied.  
” _Fuck_ , no. I’m just… Any more and I won’t be able to…”  
It took her a second to catch on: He was close, and assumed she had intended this as foreplay. She let loose a tense breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Slipping back into her role as seductress, she slid a hand up his thigh, skirting over his hip and pressing firmly as it ran up his abs, his treasure trail soft against her hand. His breath hitched pleasingly when she flexed her fingers, batting her eyelashes as she moved in closer, her other hand wrapping back around him. Her words were initially for his benefit, but she surprised herself when she found there was truth in them.   
“I want to taste you.”   
She let her eyes fall closed as she slid her mouth back around him, moaning a little at his taste (and a little louder when she remembered how he liked it when she was vocal). It made her think of that first night at Indigo when she’d watched him fall apart by his own hand, and how much she’d wanted to be the one causing it. It was far from the first time since then he’d come with her, but usually she was too blissed out to give him her full attention.   
“Oh _fuck,_ Bonnie _._ ”   
She took a gamble and scratched lightly at his abs with her nails, feeling the payoff when his hips canted up and in seconds he was spilling down her throat with a hoarse cry.

Bonnie crawled herself up alongside him and nuzzled triumphantly into his neck as he caught his breath. She was a little surprised when he kissed her – a lot of guys might’ve had a problem with kissing her after, but Damon evidently either wasn’t one of them, or the urge to kiss her outweighed any hesitation he might’ve had.   
“What’d I do to deserve that?” He breathed. (His eyes did kind of sparkle in the morning light that seeped into the bedroom, just the way she thought they would.)   
“Just wanted to, I guess.” She shrugged. “Plus you were asleep forever. It seemed like as good a way to get your ass out of bed as any.”   
“Beats the hell outta my alarm clock.” He quipped. He seemed to be coming back to his senses a little, as his nostrils flared and he turned his head towards the kitchen before turning back to her. “What’s that smell? Did you make _coffee_?” Bonnie nodded hesitantly. In hindsight, it seemed kind of a domestic thing to do, and she worried it might have crossed some boundary. She was relieved when he pulled her in tighter against him, speaking into her hair. “Oh my god. That settles it. I’m never letting you outta here.”   
She smiled contentedly for a moment before reality dawned. She rolled her eyes in frustration.   
“Unfortunately, for reasons I can’t fathom right now, I agreed to go out for brunch with my cousin today.” She’d completely forgotten – the timing sucked, as she pretty much had to leave right now if she had any hope of getting there on time. “Raincheck?”  
His expression was unreadable. “Sure.”   
“The worst part is the café is actually closer to here than my place, but I have to go home to shower and change. Ugh.” The idea of leaving Damon sooner than she had to and slogging across town in a cab only to come right back was not an appealing one.   
“I have some of Katherine’s stuff here, and it doesn’t _all_ look like hooker wear. She wouldn’t notice if you borrowed something.” Bonnie’s expression must have asked the question she hesitated to. “We all keep a stash of clothes at one another’s places and at Indigo just in case we need to pull a quick change, but somehow I think you might stand out a little more in one of Klaus’ suits than in Kat’s leggings and a tee.”   
Bonnie flicked her eyes back to his; she didn’t think she’d imagined the subtext: _Stay a little longer._   
“Can I use your shower?”   
“Hmm…” He feigned consideration. “Nope, don’t think so.”   
His smirk was playful, so she played along.   
“Oh?”   
“Well, my shower is super fancy. It has a whole bunch of different jets and settings, and this big waterfall thingy. It’s pretty terrible for the environment, and you’d probably waste more water just figuring out the controls than you’d use taking a bath at home. So really it would be irresponsible of me to let you use it alone.”   
She didn’t miss the emphasis he placed on that last word.   
“I swear to god if you’re hard _again_ , scientists should dissect you for research.”   
He held up his hands in mock surrender.   
“Totally innocent. Minimal ogling only.” He flicked one hand into a 3-finger salute. “Scout’s honour.”   
She laughed.   
“Oh please, like you were ever a boy scout.”   
She flicked the covers back and swung her legs out, heading in the direction of the bathroom. He was out behind her immediately, a squeal escaping her as he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.   
“Didn’t say I was a _good_ one.”

They really did waste a hell of a lot of water, but she didn’t think that could be blamed on the shower. Their time was spent in roughly equal parts having incredibly silly water fights as Bonnie desperately tried to keep her hair dry, making out pressed up against the shower wall, and actually getting clean (with Damon handling Bonnie’s body with a gentle reverence that made it impossible to resist him when his fingers brought her to just one more shuddering climax). The clothes he brought out weren’t awful either – a pair of distressed black jeggings and an off-the-shoulder black top that actually wouldn’t look too out of place in her own closet. She had to wear her own shoes, which obviously dressed the look up a little too much for a casual brunch, but it wasn’t overly noticeable. Damon emerged from his closet in low slung jeans, pulling a black tee over his shoulders; he always looked good, but somehow seeing him in the light of day and at home was a new level of intimacy. She cursed inwardly again that she had to go.   
“You know, thanks to your cousin, you’re missing out on a truly stellar breakfast.” He hooked his fingers in her belt loops and pulled her in close. “I make _the best_ morning after pancakes.”   
“I don’t like pancakes.” She really didn’t, but that didn’t mean she was any less bummed about leaving.   
”Everyone likes pancakes.” He countered.   
“Next time.” It was said on reflex, but she regretted it the second it came out of her mouth. While she was pretty sure they would carry on having sex, it would be in the context of their professional relationship, which meant no sleepovers. “I mean…” She rolled her eyes at herself, unsure what she could say.   
“It’s okay.” He reassured, resting his hand against her cheek and she leaned into the touch.   
“See you Friday?” She offered.   
She wasn’t sure what she saw flicker across his gaze in that moment, but knew better than to question it.   
“Sure.” He gave her a final kiss, and she couldn’t shake the feeling there was more behind it than a simple ‘see you later’.   
Bonnie showed herself out, leaning back on the door with a smile on her face. Even though she was disappointed to be leaving, last night was the best night of her life.

\---

Last night was the worst mistake of his life.

He'd known from the start this girl spelled trouble. The effect she had on him was like witchcraft: There had to be something supernatural or heretical in the way one look or word from her had him physically and metaphorically on his knees. But he just had to go and play with fire, didn't he?   
What the hell was he going to do now?   
Thinking back on it, he'd hated the fact Bonnie wouldn't kiss him with a fiery vengeance, but it had been a blessing in disguise; one small mercy from whatever higher power was fucking with him. But she was like the apple in the garden of Eden: He was human, and fallible, and he just _had_ to have a taste. And once he had a taste, there was no going back.

The scent of Bonnie and sex was all over his apartment, drowning his senses until he couldn't think straight. He threw open a window and immediately thought of how beautiful she had looked gazing out of it in wonderment last night, her skin glowing in the light of the city. It made him wish he could shatter it into a million pieces like she had done to him. He poured himself a full tumbler of bourbon and drained it in a futile hope it might dull the ache in his chest. It didn't. He had to resist pouring the rest of the bottle on the bed and setting it on fire just so he could take a breath again without smelling her.

That first kiss had turned his world upside down. Not just because it had been the best kiss of his short but colourful life, but because of what it meant - what lay behind it. It meant she saw him as a person, not just glorified sex toy. It meant she cared about his feelings, meant she thought enough of him to put herself on the line. Most of all, he knew that for Bonnie, a kiss meant opening her heart to someone.  
To _him_.   
That was more than he had ever dared to hope for, and that glimmer of hope was the worst thing she could ever offer him: The poisoned chalice.

And then there was the sex. That first foray into _really_ exploring one another, without the intrusion of professionalism or money or boundaries had been a thing of beauty. But later, after he'd woken in the night to her scent in his nostrils, fevered and literally shaking like an addict in withdrawal, craving her touch like his life depended on it… That had been life-changing.

It had almost been catastrophic. He had bitten down on her neck to keep the words in, to keep them from spilling out into the world, unbidden and unwanted.  
" _I love you. God, I love you so much_."  
He'd never said the ‘L’ word to a woman, at least not in the context of that phrase. Barely even said it to his own family. Probably never said it at all in his adult life. And here he was, about to blurt them out to someone who could scarcely be more off-limits or out of his league if he tried. And during _sex_?!  
(A _dmittedly during 4am epicly romantic, need-you-so-bad-I-can't-wait-til-morning, quasi-religious experience sex that he didn't even realise could be a thing until it happened)_  
Damon was pretty rusty on the gear changes when it came to functional healthy relationships (which this definitely was not), but even he knew that saying… _that_ for the first time to someone during sex was always a no go, even if the stars aligned in ever other way... Which they definitely didn't with him and Bonnie.

Because being with her was literally impossible.

Option 1: Dating. Okay so dating a client was strictly verboten, but he'd never been one to follow the rules, so that shouldn't stop him. And yeah, so he obviously lov- _liked_ her a hell of a lot more than she liked him, but that wasn't insurmountable: He could follow along like some pathetic lovesick puppy until she caught up with the programme. It wouldn't be the first time. And if last night had made anything clear, it was that she would be at the very least open to the idea.  
Yeah, on paper option 1 looked pretty doable, until you considered the elephant in the room:  
His job.  
What kind of woman would be okay with kissing her boyfriend goodbye on his way to work knowing he's going to fuck other people? Hell, if the shoe were on the other foot, he couldn't do it. Just the thought of Enzo's flirty little touches on Bonnie's arm last night made his blood boil. Even if by some miracle she could tolerate it, and they could get over the weird working hours and borderline James Bond secret keeping, he wouldn't be able to stand his own hypocrisy.  
So just give up the job, right? Easy. Except he'd fucked up everything else he'd ever tried. He'd dropped out of college, couldn't hack the military, and had sucked at every job he'd ever had. Which wouldn't be so much of a problem if Damon himself was the only one dependent on his income.  
  
Damon had a borderline dysfunctional relationship with his little brother. They used to be close, but after their parents died, things changed. Stefan had thought the world of their parents, his father especially, but the truth was that Giuseppe Salvatore was a piece of work. Just as his golden boy Stefan could do no wrong, Damon could do no right. Damon's respect for the man wasn't improved any when, after the car crash that killed him and their mom, Damon found out he'd gambled away everything, right down to both of their college funds. He couldn't tell Stef - it would have broken him - so he did the only thing he could do: He dropped out of college and worked his ass off. The army didn't go well - his father could shoulder the blame for his problems with authority, and 3 minimum wage jobs weren't enough to pay Stefan's tuition and keep his own head above water. Indigo was his saving grace - he made enough to pay Stefan's way and afford a more than comfortable lifestyle for himself, all while doing something he enjoyed and was actually good at. They might not be close anymore, but his brother meant there world to him. Even if he could stomach giving up the only thing he'd ever been good at and go back to minimum wage dead-end jobs, he couldn't let Stefan down. There were other reasons too: He liked being financially independent. And it wasn’t like he was Rent-a-Dick, he _cared_ about some of his clients. Not in the same way he cared about her, and if he was asked to put it into words, he doubted he could explain it, but… She’d never understand.

So, option 2: Keep things professional. Accept that last night was a fluke, and make do with an hour a week, where he had to pretend it wasn't like being stabbed in the gut not to be able to be with her the way he wanted.  
Well, _that_ wasn't gonna happen. Even if he could physically manage that all consuming _need_ enough to play the part he had to play (which after his little episode in the middle of the night… yeah, not a chance), he didn't want to think about the soul crushing emptiness he would feel when he left her after. Or, god forbid, when she inevitably started dating again - when the time came she didn't need him anymore. The idea had him draining another tumbler of bourbon in short order.

So that left option 3. And he _really_ hated option 3... Quit her cold turkey.  
Just the thought of it was enough to make bile rise in his throat, as if his body was rejecting the very notion of never seeing her again. He thought back to last night when he caught sight of her sat in the bar, half thinking he was hallucinating her; the way his heart skipped a beat and the goofy smile that spread across his face when he realised she was really there. The rush of happiness that always accompanied walking up the path to her front door in anticipation of seeing her face. To never feel that again...it didn't bear thinking about. But he knew deep down he didn’t have a choice. Who was he kidding? He’d known when he kissed her at the door that morning that it was a kiss goodbye.

He wished he'd never invited her up. That way he could have deluded himself into thinking everything was fine for a while longer. Could have eked it out a few more weeks at least.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled down to her number, fingers hovering over the keys as he tried to figure out what to say.  
_Last night was great. For undisclosed reasons I can never see you again. Have a nice life_. Or maybe: _Hey, I'm shitty at boundaries – sorry, I can't be your orgasm delivery system anymore._  
Best not.

He pressed and held on her name in the address book. Taking in a deep breath, his thumb hovered over the menu that appeared.  
_Block contact_

Whoever said it was better to have loved than lost had obviously never loved Bonnie Bennett.  
He tapped his thumb against the screen and poured himself another drink as he tried to remember how to live without her. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: While everything that happens in this chapter is consensual, there is a sexual situation that some readers may find problematic/upsetting. If you think that might be an issue, skip to the end of this chapter when Enzo arrives at Bonnie's place - I'll put a summary of that part at the end.

_B: So my cousin thinks I’m really extra now because I wore heels to brunch_   
_B: Still super jealous of your view btw_   
_B: The gym down on 9 th is doing a promotion for free trial membership if you’re still looking_   
_B: Hey, just checking we’re still on for Friday_   
_B: Is everything ok?_   
_B: ???_   


Bonnie pulled out her phone for what felt like the millionth time that week, feeling dejected when there was still no reply from Damon. It was Friday – she was due to see him in a few hours, but she was apprehensive seeing as they hadn’t spoken since that night at his place. She wondered if she’d pushed their ill-defined boundaries that bit too much, but then again he didn’t seem to mind. He invited her up, wanted her to kiss him, wanted her to stay longer. She was staring at her phone, willing a message to pop up just to ease the pit in her stomach. She jumped half out of her skin when it buzzed into life, but it was a call, not a message, and the number was withheld.

“Hello?”  
”Hi, is this Ms Bennett?” Bonnie didn’t recognise the cheery female voice.   
“Yes.”   
“Hi, this is Ginger from Indigo. I’m afraid I need to cancel your booking with Dominic. I’m sorry it’s such short notice.”  
”That’s okay.” Bonnie guessed he must be sick or something – that would explain why he wasn’t getting back to her.   
“Can I refer you to someone else? Dominic mentioned you might have a preference for Enzo.”   
“He said that?” Bonnie frowned. She thought back to how Damon had acted when he thought she was interested in Enzo – it just didn’t make sense that he would as good as recommend him for her. She figured it must just be company policy to try and make sure bookings weren’t lost if someone got sick. “He’s a popular choice, but as luck would have it, he’s free at your appointment time tonight.”   
“No, thank you. I’ll just wait until next week or whenever Dominic is working again.”   
There was a second or two of silence.   
“I’m sorry honey, I should’ve made myself more clear. I can’t book any more sessions with Dominic for you.”   
“I don’t understand, has he quit or-“ The taut silence on the other end of the phone confirmed her worst suspicions: Damon either couldn’t or wouldn’t see her anymore.. “Oh.” Was all she could say. She tried to keep the hint of cracking from her voice. “Did he say why?”   
She didn’t answer – not directly, at least.<   
“He left you a good client reference, and you didn’t hear this from me, but he slipped me some cash to free up Enzo’s diary for you.” Her voice was genuinely sympathetic, and she hadn’t been blacklisted or anything, so Damon obviously hadn’t given the impression she was some kind of bunny boiler. She couldn’t bring herself to care about that small mercy, because how could he try and palm her off on Enzo after last week?. “I’ll give you some time to think about it. I’ll leave Enzo’s spot open. If you want it, just give me a call okay?”   
Bonnie forced herself to last out the call.   
“Okay, thanks. Bye.”   
“Bye, sweetie.” _Click._

It was only when she tried to call Damon and his number came up as not recognised that Bonnie let herself break down.

A few hours later, Bonnie was sat in the bath, trying to get herself together. She’d finally stopped crying, but a sort of emotional numbness had settled over her now. Rationally, she knew this shouldn’t feel like a breakup: Take away the money, and with the exception of last Friday night, it was scarcely more than casual sex. But it felt as bad (worse) than any breakup she’d been through; she had considered Damon a friend – had secretly told herself they could be more given the chance – so to be shut out like this cut her like a knife. She tried to pinpoint exactly where she’d gone wrong, where he might’ve signaled that she was overstepping the mark, but all she could see was him pulling her closer, him telling her he was glad she stayed, the way he looked at her… If she had any tears left to cry, that would have done it. The more she thought about it, the more that kiss goodbye had felt somehow final – like he knew then – but then why didn’t he _say something?_ She couldn’t make sense of it, and just wished she could talk to him. Half of her considered going over and hammering on his door, but she knew in her heart that would only make things worse.

The water was cold by the time she got out – not that she noticed. Unable to bring herself to slip into the cold sheets alone, she pulled her dressing gown up around her and fell into a fitful sleep on the couch.

\---

Bonnie wasn't looking forward to Saturday lunch with her best friend. It sounded awful, but she'd been putting it off, unable to face Caroline's prying and almost oppressive optimism right now. It had been a few weeks since the breakup that wasn't really a breakup, and Bonnie was pretty much functional ( _functional_ , not happy, but it was a start). She missed Damon far more than she expected, and it wasn't just physical. Yes, her body craved him, but often something would happen and she'd almost instinctively go to text him about it, her heart sinking when she remembered she couldn't. Friday nights were still the worst. She usually worked until an ungodly hour, because it was better than the alternative: Sitting at home with a glass (a bottle) of wine, watching the door in wistful silence and wondering who had taken her place. She replayed that night over and over in her mind, wishing she'd just walked across the street and got in the damn cab instead of following him up. She couldn't bring herself to regret it, but she couldn't help but wonder if he'd still be in her life if it never happened.

She dismissed the thought that had been haunting her for weeks as she walked into the cafe, forcing a smile as she laid eyes on her bubbly blonde friend, who let out a small girlish squeal of excitement and as soon as she reached the table, pulled her in for a tight hug. "Oh my god, it has been for _ever_!"  
They made small talk for a while and ordered their food, Caroline berated her for working too hard. On the whole, things weren't going as badly as Bonnie had feared. Until...  
"So it's been literally killing me, and you haven't said anything. How was your date?"  
Bonnie struggled to work out what Caroline was talking about. She was just about to ask when she remembered.  
That night - _the_ night - had started with that shitty blind date. She had forgotten all about it in the context of everything else - couldn't even remember the guy's name. All of a sudden she was wishing she'd stayed in bed again.  
"Oh, um... It was..." _How to say 'it was a disaster' without hurting her feelings?_ "I just don't think we clicked, you know?"  
_Damon and I clicked. Or at least I thought we did._ It was an intrusive thought, and she felt tears pricking the corner of her eyes. She willed them back.  
"Really? I thought for sure you guys would get on." Bonnie shook her head. "Did you at least get laid?" Caroline either intended it as a joke or as a jibe at Bonnie's perceived lack of a sex life, but for Bonnie it meant something completely different. She couldn't hold back the tears any more. Caroline's eyes widened as she realised she'd put her foot in it somehow, and she quickly scooted around the booth to put her arm around her friend. "Oh honey! Are you okay? I didn't mean it - I'm sorry. Me and my big mouth."  
"It's okay. It's just..." Bonnie sniffed, trying to get a handle on her tears. Obviously she couldn't tell her everything, but she had to talk to someone or she was going to lose her mind. "I was kind of seeing someone for a couple of months. But it's over, and it's still kind of raw, and-OW!" She reeled back as Caroline hit her in the arm.  
"Bonnie Sheila Bennett, do you mean to tell me you've been DATING a guy for MONTHS, and I'm finding out about this NOW?!"  
"Well it was more like a friends-with-benefits thing." She whispered sheepishly.  
Caroline looked at her like she'd grown a second head.  
"Okay, one you don't have any male friends I can even contemplate you having sex with without barfing. Two, you don't do casual sex. And three, people don't have a reaction like _that_ over a friend with benefits." Bonnie didn't respond; her friend wasn't wrong on any of those points. "Anyway, seeing as my _best friend_ has been keeping things from me, I need details. Do I know him? How did it start?"  
  
Bonnie sighed. Caroline would never let this go until she was satisfied Bonnie wasn't holding out on her. And it was kind of therapeutic to talk about it.  
"You don't know him. His name is Damon."  
"Well that's a fuckboy name if I ever heard one." Caroline spat, clearly taking an immediate dislike to the guy who hurt her friend. "Where did you meet him?"  
"In a bar, actually." She smiled as she remembered her instant attraction to him and how he had persevered though her stubbornness. Caroline didn't say anything and she looked over to find her once again wearing the 'who are you and what have you done with my friend?' look." What?"  
"I'm not sure what to question first. That dreamy far off look you just had or the fact you picked up a guy in a bar."  
She rolled her eyes.  
"I told him I wasn't interested, but he was persistent. Not to mention _gorgeous_. Anyway, things were pretty much just... _physical_ to start with, but then we started texting, and he was funny and sweet and... it just felt like there was more to us than just sex."  
"So what happened?"  
"I ran into him after the date with that loser you set me up with. Spent the evening with him and his friends, then went back to his place. But it was different than the other times. He was different. It was... I don't know, romantic?" She sighed. "You should have seen how he looked at me. I was sure it was the start of something. But..."  
"It wasn't." Caroline finished.  
"It wasn't." She agreed.  
Caroline puller her in close for a sympathetic hug. Bonnie couldn't count the number of times she'd done this for Caroline, but never the other way around - Bonnie had just never been this emotional about a guy.  
"Was the sex good at least?" Bonnie sputtered a laugh, and Caroline pulled back. "I'm serious. I'm going through a severe dry patch and I need to live vicariously though my best friend, who apparently has been banging a hottie since before freaking fashion week."  
Bonnie was grateful for the renewed levity, and honestly it felt good to be able to brag a little  
"Hmmm. I'm just wondering how best to answer that.... Okay, even if it was just his _tongue_ , it would still have been the best sex of my life."  
Caroline audibly groaned.  
"Okay, colour me jealous."  
"You don't have to be anymore." She said wistfully.  
"Well, you know my motto when it comes to break ups..."  
She knew what she was going to say.  
"I do. And no."  
"The best way to get over him is to get under someone else."  
"No way, Care. I don't even think I'm ready."  
"And you never will be with that attitude. And you can't tell me you aren't missing the sex."  
She had her there.  
"But I wasn't exaggerating. Where am I going to find a guy that measures up to that?"  
Just as she said it, an idea flashed in her head, and she knew _exactly_ where. Caroline obviously saw the idea flicker across her face.  
"What?"  
"Do you really think it'll help?"  
"Can't hurt to try." She shrugged. "But no more keeping secret boy toys on the side without telling me, okay?"  
"I promise."

Bonnie was preoccupied through the rest of lunch, to the point she barely remembered saying goodbye to Caroline. Her front door was barely closed before she had her phone in her hand, her finger hovering over the number. Caroline's words echoed in her head.  
" _Can't hurt to try_ "  
She hit the dial key.  
"Indigo. Krystal speaking, how can I help you?"  
"Hi. This is Bonnie Bennett. I'd like to book an appointment please."  
"Sure thing. Did you have someone in mind."  
She felt a pang of sadness at the thought of the name she wanted to say.  
"Um, I was thinking Enzo? Is he free sometime next week?"  
She had thought about calling him directly - she had his number - but she really didn't want to make this more complicated than it had to be. She wanted no strings.  
"Let me just... Yeah he has Wednesday at 10pm or Friday at 9 if either of those work for you?"  
Bonnie hesitated. But if she was going to replace old memories with new, best to go for it.  
"Friday. Please."  
She finished up the call and let out a breath of reassurance . Maybe Caroline was right: Maybe this would help her to let go.

\---

Things were going great for Damon. Really, they were. He had switched up his working days so that he could work the super busy Saturdays at the club. Pretty much all his regulars had been fine to reschedule, and now he'd done it, he wondered why he had always been reluctant to work Saturdays before: His earnings had gone up by a solid 30%, and yeah, he felt like he barely had time to catch his breath, but busy was good. And he just ignored Katherine’s incessant mocking of him for having to make use of the club's bottomless stash of little blue pills for the first time in his career; he was working longer hours and packing in more clients than ever before; there was no shame in needing a little help to _keep up_ with demand, so to speak.

Friday lunchtime, he swung by Indigo even though he wasn’t working with an obscenely expensive bottle of champagne in hand - It was Ginger’s birthday, and at the rate he was going, he was gonna end up owing her his first-born, so he needed all the goodwill he could broker. She’d been a saint, taking on the painstaking task of rescheduling his appointment diary to accommodate his day changes without bitching about it, not to mention the other phonecall he’d delegated to her. Damon had been sparse on the details, and the fact Ginger had been smart enough not to ask any questions was something he’d forever be thankful for. He was even more grateful when she hadn’t told him the outcome of that call – he wanted to still be able to see Enzo socially and look him in the eye without feeling the persistent urge to pummel him into the floor.

Speak of the Devil – Enzo was coming out of the admin office as Damon was headed in.   
“Hey buddy.”   
“Afternoon, mate. Fancy seeing you here. Would’ve thought Saturdays would more than enough to keep even the worst workaholics out of here on their days off.”   
He did seem surprised to see him, but there was something else off that he couldn’t put his finger on. Damon raised the bottle for Enzo to see.   
“Ginger’s birthday. Just dropping this off for her. What brings you here, aren’t you on housecalls today?”   
Enzo looked to all intents and purposes like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and Damon couldn’t figure it out.   
“Just picking up a file for later.”   
Damon clocked the thin brown file in his hand.   
“Oh, new client?” He was intrigued. An existing file meant either one of the clients who liked to shop the whole range and keep their options open, or someone was switching. A client switch was always hot gossip in the office, and was usually fuel for some good-natured mocking at the escort whose client had defected. From the way Enzo was trying to hide the file, this _had_ to be good. “C’mon, who you got?” He reached for the file and Enzo actually flinched back. However, it was enough to see the name on the side. He recognised his own handwriting before the letters came together.   
_B. Bennett_

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise – after all, he’d referred her to Enzo himself – but it hit him like a punch in the gut. Suddenly it felt like he was saying goodbye to her all over again, and there wasn’t enough air in the goddamn stuffy corridor. He had no idea how long he’d stood there, staring like an idiot at that name and willing it to say anything else, but evidently it had been a while. He only snapped out of it when he realised Enzo was speaking.   
“Mate… If you want me to cancel…”   
His voice was so full of pity and Damon couldn’t stomach it. What the fuck did he think he knew, anyway? Damon buried the surge of feeling deep and put on his best mask of bravado.   
“Why? I’ve got more clients than I can handle, so you’re doing me a favour, really. Besides, she likes the mushy romantic crap, so you’re right up her alley.” Enzo didn’t look convinced. “Pro tip: She likes to watch, so give her a show.”   
He threw on a wink, but was too busy fighting the jealous bile rising in his throat to see if he bought it.   
“I’ll look after her.”   
Enzo was way too good at reading between the lines. Damon hated it; he just nodded in response. Enzo smiled weakly and slid past him, heading for the door.

Damon dropped off the champagne in the break room – it had a tag with Ginger’s name on it, so she’d probably find it. He told himself he had other stuff to be getting on with, so he didn’t have time to stick around and chat. This whole thing was bullshit. He was _fine_ with Enzo seeing Bonnie. Really. And it was good that it was out in the open – his conscience could be clear knowing she was in good hands. The fact that his use of the company blue pill stash coincided with no longer seeing her was irrelevant - correlation, not causation.   
The day switch was definitely _not_ because he couldn’t face working Friday nights anymore.   
He wasn’t keeping busy to distract himself from the gaping hole she left in his life.   
And he _definitely_ wasn’t going to spend tonight drinking himself into a coma to kill any wayward brain cells that dared to think about the good hands Bonnie was in – to think about her coming apart under someone else’s touch.

Things were fine. _Better than fine_.

If he said it enough, he might start to believe it.

\--- 

Bonnie wasn’t sure how she was feeling as 9pm approached. Resolute, maybe?   
_Yeah, because that’s a good and healthy way to feel before sex._   
It was a world away from the nerves she’d felt that first time Damon had come to her place, and even further from the excited anticipation she felt the subsequent times. She heaved a sigh. In some ways, it was like things had come full circle – maybe she could do things right this time, and this would serve the purpose it should, rather than leaving her wishing for more. The sharp rap on the door startled her out of her thoughts, and she took in a deep breath before opening the door.

Enzo looked handsome – she wouldn’t expect anything less – but she still had to suppress a pang of disappointment in her chest, as if her subconscious mind had still half-hoped to see Damon on the other side of the door. He greeted her with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. _Oh good, he’s picked up on my hesitation. That should make this nice and awkward._ She forced herself not to flinch when he went in for a kiss on the cheek.   
“Hello, gorgeous.” (He disregarded her unease like a pro – thank heaven for small mercies).   
“Hi.” She managed. She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. “I hope you didn’t mind me booking… this. I know we had kind of a moment before, but I’d rather keep things uncomplicated. Is that okay?” She wanted to establish boundaries early on, especially given the last time they’d met, they’d flirted and he’d given her his number.   
“Not at all. Thought it was my lucky day if I’m honest.” He winked and his ensuing smile was dashing. The compliment/smile combo was clearly designed to melt her panties.   
She felt nothing. _Great start_.   
“So, is there anything we need to go over?” Bonnie was keen to get ~~it over with~~ started.   
"I read your file and your likes and dislikes. Anything changed since you filled that out?”   
_My whole life got turned upside down._ “Not really… Oh, um, I’m not sure if D- if he wrote down that I didn’t want to be kissed?” A nod from Enzo indicated he had. “I don’t… that’s not a problem for me anymore.”   
If her experience with Damon had shown anything, it was that if she was going to fall for someone, it would happen regardless of if they locked lips, so avoiding it wouldn’t do any good. His mouth quirked up in a sexy smirk.   
“Seems like an ideal place to start then, doesn’t it?"

Enzo leaned in and put his lips to hers. He was objectively a good kisser – starting off gentle and tentative, building towards urgency and sensuality; his tongue begged entrance, and she accepted, letting herself acclimatise to being touched again. Bonnie felt her body warm in response, and pressed herself against him instinctively, bringing her arms up around his neck. The whole thing still felt kind of distant, like she was watching someone else do it, but she figured if she just pushed through, her brain would shut off and eventually let her enjoy it. His hands slid over her – light touches at first to give her the opportunity to get used to him, becoming firmer as she relaxed.

Bonnie’s heart wasn’t in it, but she was determined to fake it ‘til she made it. She did her utmost to just close her eyes and not think about what was happening, because she knew if she did think about it, she would make comparisons that just made her heart hurt – that if she looked into those soulful brown eyes, she would find herself wishing for blue. If he noticed her indifference, he didn’t pass comment on it (and on the couple of occasions she thought he might, she redoubled her efforts to seem interested, kissing him harder, pulling him in more forcefully). She let him lead her to the bedroom, let him undress her and mechanically did the same for him. He told her she was beautiful, and she forced a smile at the compliment. Internally, she was furious – with Damon for putting her in this position, with her brain for refusing to just go into standby and enjoy this, with her traitorous body for responding to Enzo’s touch, even irrationally with Enzo for not being Damon – but she channeled it into her physicality, trying to pass it off as enthusiasm.

Things progressed, and she sleepwalked through foreplay – telling herself the different texture of his hands on her and the rhythm of his fingers inside her were a refreshing change rather than a crushing disappointment. She told herself it was eagerness rather than desperation to get things over with that had her calling an end to foreplay a little too soon, wincing a little as he entered her (though he was well endowed, it definitely hurt less than it would have if he’d had the same god-like proportions of… _no, don’t think about him_ ). He asked if she was okay and she brushed off his concern, trying to ignore the way she almost flinched at his voice. She closed her eyes and tried to let her body take the reins, but it was no use. Everything felt wrong: The cadence, the weight on top of her, the hardness inside her, the lips on her neck - all of it was just _wrong_. Even the dampness on her skin felt less like the soft, warm sheen of passion and more like the cold sweat of panic. A feeling started to coil in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn’t the warm bloom of pleasure.   
“Get off. Get off me.” She choked out.   
To his credit, Enzo responded immediately, pulling out of her and springing aside, eyes full of concern. But Bonnie didn’t have time to acknowledge him as she darted to the bathroom, barely remembering to pull the door to before hunching over the toilet bowl and retching. Tears ran down her face as her body physically rejected her attempt to take back control of her love life.

A few minutes later, Bonnie heard the door creak open as Enzo padded in.   
“You don’t need to see this.”   
“And yet here I am.” He set a glass of water down for her and knelt down beside her, gently rubbing her back. “Got to admit it’s not the reaction I _usually_ get…”   
She laughed at his attempt at lightness, thankful he didn’t seem to be taking this personally. She took a gulp of water, swirling and spitting before flushing and sitting back. He did the same.   
“It’s not you. You’re… perfect.”   
“Evidently.” He said it with humour and a sweeping gesture at the situation the found themselves in, wearing a wry smile she couldn’t help but return, though hers was weak.   
“Really, you’re great. It’s just…”   
She didn’t know how to finish that sentence, but apparently he did.   
“I’m not Damon.” Her eyes snapped up to his. He didn’t wait for her to confirm or deny – it was patently clear he’d known from the start. “Does he know?”   
She wiped the tears from her eyes as she responded.   
“Pretty sure that’s what scared him off.”   
“So things… evolved, and he scarpered?” She nodded shallowly and he seemed to consider that for a moment before rolling his eyes. “I love the guy, but he’s got the emotional intelligence of a bloody sea sponge.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Look, it’s abundantly clear you don’t really want to be doing this, so I’m gonna go put some pants on and make a quick call. I’ll see you in a minute, okay?”

She nodded and watched as he left the room. It seemed like he knew something he wasn’t letting on, and the whole comment about Damon’s emotional intelligence threw her completely. She took a couple of minutes to put herself together – brushing her teeth, cleaning herself up, and throwing on a bathrobe. She didn’t want to face Enzo again – embarrassed by what happened, but more by the fact he knew why. _He must think I’m so pathetic_. Still, she knew he would be waiting expectantly for her to emerge. Sucking in a deep breath to steel herself, she opened the door. As promised, he was clothed again, though his shirt hung unbuttoned. He was objectively gorgeous and she asked herself wistfully for the hundredth time that evening why that couldn’t just be enough. He was speaking softly into his cell phone, wrapping up the call as he turned to face her. A brief panicked thought crossed her mind that he might’ve called Damon, and she prayed she was wrong.

“I just spoke to the office.” Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I’ve booked you a repeat appointment for this time next week – you’re meeting me straight from work, so we’re using the Indigo reserved room at the Park View hotel on 9th.”   
Her brow furrowed in confusion.   
“I’m sorry, I don’t-?”   
He cut her off.   
“I will be unexpectedly unavailable next Friday. Fortunately, a mutual friend owes me a favour and will be more than happy to cover for me if I forget to mention your name.”   
Bonnie was almost physically knocked back as she realised what he was implying. For a brief moment, her heart leapt at the thought of seeing him again. This was good – she couldn’t have gone to his place, and he’d never have come to hers, but neutral ground… neutral ground could work. But then reality set in.   
“Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but it won’t work. The second he spots me he’ll be out the door.”   
“Then convince him to stay.”   
“He’ll be pissed at you.”   
“What else is new?”   
“I don’t even know what I would say to him.”   
“Are you always this obstinate?” He sighed. “Look, I saw him today and he… Just talk to him. Trust me.”   
After a couple of heartbeats of silent hesitation, she made up her mind: The idea of passing up the chance to see Damon again - even if it was just for him to take one look at her and walk out – was unthinkable.   
“Okay.”   
Enzo offered her a smile by way of a farewell that she managed to return. She walked him to the door, stopping him as he headed out.  
”Hey, Enzo?” He stopped and turned to face her. “Even if it doesn’t work out… Thank you.”   
He simply nodded in acknowledgement before continuing on his way.

Bonnie didn’t know what to feel. Her body was still feeling a hundred different kinds of fucked up after the aborted physical part of the evening, her thoughts were going a mile a minute about the logistics, and her heart… her heart was flitting between eager anticipation bordering on mania, to pre-emptive heartbreak at his inevitable rejection, to a glimmer of hope that seemed to persevere regardless – maybe, just maybe…   
A broad smile – her first genuine smile in weeks - crept across her face as she nudged the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the end segment: Bonnie hires Enzo, but effectively forces her body through intercourse in an unhealthy effort to get over Damon. Enzo stops the second she says to, and recognises that she isn't over him. He sets up a meeting for the two of them to sort things out.


	12. Chapter 12

Damon was woken by his phone trilling from the bedside table. He glanced at the time – 11am, barely breakfast time for a whore. Groggily, he noted the name on his screen and answered.   
“If you haven’t set fire to another beloved item from my closet, you have no reason to be calling me this early.”   
“You know I would never hinder your beauty sleep if it wasn’t important, Princess.” Enzo sounded waaaay too chipper for this time of the morning. He hadn’t spoken to him since he’d seen him walking out of Indigo clutching Bonnie’s file last week, and the reminder of that would almost be enough to make him want to reach for the bourbon all over again, despite the spectacular hangover he was nursing. “Got a bit of a problem, so I’m calling in that favour for the thing at the botanical gardens.”   
Damon groaned, scrubbing his face briskly in an effort to wake himself up. He’d had to get Enzo to cover for him at a swanky society orgy earlier in the year when his hayfever had unexpectedly gone ballistic.   
“Okay, I’m conscious. You don’t sound sick or anything.”   
“I’m not – An old friend’s in town unexpectedly and I was hoping to catch up with her.”   
“Ah, that kind of old friend.” He said knowingly. “So what’s the gig?”   
“Vanilla sex, no frills. She’s young, gorgeous, and it’s not even a house call – 9pm at the suite. Honestly I’m pissed you’re getting off this lightly.”   
Enzo didn’t know it, but this was probably the worst case scenario for him. It would be the first Friday night booking he’d done since Bonnie, and at least if it was an older woman, or a couple rungs up the kink ladder, that might’ve helped to take his mind off of things.   
“Does she know you’re bailing? And what’s her name? I’ll swing by Indigo and pick up her file.” (And renew his supply of Vitamin V, but Enzo didn’t need to know that.)   
“She knows and she’s fine with the switch. Her name’s Sheila. But honestly mate, I’d rather Sage not get wind I’m taking the night off, so if you could go off-book I’d be much obliged. Like I said, she’s a classic gal - keep things simple and you’re golden.”   
Damon could understand that – Ginger had done plenty to keep his extra-curriculars off Sage’s desk, so he was happy to do the same for Enzo.   
“No sweat, just text me the details. Have a good night with your _friend_ – don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”   
“Roger that.”   
He hung up and forced himself out of bed, his phone beeping almost immediately with Enzo’s message. He could sleep a little longer, but he decided to hit the gym: Anything to help him get into the right headspace.

Maybe this was for the best – Damon couldn’t drink his Friday nights into oblivion for the rest of his life, after all. He had to get over it eventually, and no time like the present.

\---

Bonnie was at the suite a full hour early. She’d narrowly resisted the urge to wait it out in the hotel bar – for one thing, she didn’t want to bump into Damon if he was running early, but more to the point she didn’t want to risk the temptation to seek out her courage at the bottom of a shotglass. She was a little worried her nervous pacing would wear a hole in the carpet, but it was better than wasting her last chance by being too drunk to hold a conversation. Fully aware that it was unlikely he’d see it, she’d still worn her nicest set of lingerie: It bolstered her confidence a little, and she could use all the help she could get.

It had been a nail-biting 7 days. She’d run through every possibility in her head, and as far as she could see, it would go one of four ways:   
The first one - worst-case scenario - he blanked her completely and walked straight back out without saying a word.   
The second – a screaming match. That might at first glance seem worse than the first, but if he was yelling at her, that _meant_ something. In fact, it meant two things: It meant they were talking, which gave her a shot at getting some answers at least (if she couldn’t have him, she at least needed to know _why_ ), and secondly, it meant he felt _something_. Sure, that ‘something’ might not be a positive feeling, but even if he hated her, she’d take that over his indifference. The idea of him looking at her like she was a stranger, like nothing had happened… she couldn’t think of anything worse. Ergo shouting = good.   
The third – he’d bailed because things got complicated, so she’d offer to uncomplicate it; re-establish boundaries, and go back to basics, back to what they should’ve been in the first place. She could do that – she could do no strings, all professional if that’s what it took. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was better than this. It was better than nothing.   
The fourth…   
She daren’t hope enough to even consider anything beyond the purely physical. Her ridiculous, optimistic, hopeful heart fluttered and she clamped down on it like steel. Too much hope was dangerous.

Bonnie was stunned out of her thoughts by a soft knock at the door. Her heart stopped, and for a second she forgot how to breathe. Even if she hadn’t planned this, she’d have known it was him from the gentle caress of his knuckles on the wood.   
This was it…

  
She strode purposefully across the room and, forcing in a steadying breath, she turned the handle and pulled open the door.

It had only been six weeks, but Bonnie had already forgotten just how unnaturally blue his eyes were. She was so caught up in them she barely noticed he was speaking as recognition flared in them.   
“Bonnie?” Followed by bewilderment. For a split second before he caught it, there was also… fondness? If not more than that. On some level at least, he was happy to see her “What are you d-?”.It didn’t last. Those diamond eyes that shone with elation at first sight turned to cold, unrepentant steel in an instant before rolling back in his head. “I’m gonna kill Enzo.”   
“Don’t.” He was already turning to leave, but she grabbed for his forearm. “Please, I just want to talk to you.”   
He pulled his arm back as if her touch physically burned.   
"We have nothing to talk about.”   
“Indigo wouldn’t appreciate a scene. Please don’t make me do this in the hallway.”   
Damon scowled at her for a few seconds – fight and flight warring in his countenance – before he stormed past her in way that made it clear he was doing so under protest. He was on the other side of the room almost immediately.   
“Gotta hand it to you, this was smart.” He took a seat in a chair by the window – literally the farthest point in the room from her; it was like he couldn’t even stand to be near her. “If you’d shown up at my place I could’ve just kicked you out, but this way you’ve got a captive audience.” He fixed her with that chilling, emotionless stare that felt like he’d flicked a switch and turned off everything inside him that was human. “You want one last goodbye fuck, is that it? Is that what it’ll take to get you out of my life?”   
He spat it like venom, and it stung like it, too. She recognised it for what it was: He was backed into a corner, and fighting was just instinct. But recognising it didn’t make it hurt any less, and she couldn’t stop the lone tear from tracking its way down her cheek. She wiped it away brusquely.   
“This was a mistake. I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded so small in the quiet room.   
“You’re damn right it was. This whole charade has been one big fucking mistake. But we’re here now. So what do you want?”   
She closed her eyes in an attempt to stop further tears from falling.   
“I just want to know why. What did I do wrong?”   
There was a disbelieving laugh that drew her eyes back to him.   
“You’re kidding, right? What did you do _right_? You broke literally every rule we have, and probably a few so obvious they never needed writing down before! And you made me _complicit_ in it. If I didn’t cut you off, it was only a matter of time before Indigo did; only this way at least I didn’t lose my job because of you.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, leaning his elbows on his knees.

It clicked for her then.   
“You… You didn’t want this either. Did you? Did they make you call it off?”   
He glared up at her.   
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
“Then tell me.”   
“Why? It won’t change anything.” She could tell she wasn’t going to get anywhere this way, so she changed tack. “So I broke the rules. What if I don’t break them again? Keep things strictly professional, don’t colour outside the lines. An hour a week: No phonecalls, no texting, no talk that isn’t shop talk, no asking for anything out of bounds. Could we go back to seeing each other then?”   
He laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humour in it.   
“Not a chance.”   
“You think I can’t do it?” She was resolute.   
“No, but I know _I_ can’t.”

He’d said it so quietly Bonnie almost didn’t hear him; Bonnie’s cynical mind told her she had to be imagining the implication behind his words. Her eyes flashed over to him and locked on his face in an instant, searching for any hint she was wrong, but the way he slowly, reluctantly dragged his own eyes up to meet hers… She wanted so badly to believe it meant what she thought it did, but she couldn’t risk not knowing for sure.   
“Why not?”   
“C’mon Bon, you know why. Don’t make me say it.”   
“Please.” She pressed. “I need to hear it.”   
“With a sadistic streak like yours, you should be working with Klaus.” He sighed. “Because it isn’t enough. To have you and never really _have_ you… It’s pretty obvious I can’t say ‘no’ to you, so if you ask, I’ll do it, but… Please don’t ask.”   
She couldn’t stop the tears from falling then, but this time they were tears of relief. It wasn’t in her head, she wasn’t some crazy bunny-boiling stalker – he felt it, too.

“But then why not just tell me you wanted more? It had to be obvious I did, too.”   
“Because what we want – what either of us want – is irrelevant.”   
"That’s ridiculous. Of course it’s relevant. It’s _all_ that’s relevant.”   
“Oh, so you’re good with me fucking other people for money, then?” She was stunned into silence – she hadn’t dared to hope he might feel something for her, so she hadn’t thought about the practicalities. “That’s what I thought.”   
“If it’s about… If you need the money-"   
“It’s not. And even if it was, I’m not some trophy boyfriend.”   
She wasn’t going to push him on that – if he asked her to give up her work, she’d say no, too. While she wasn’t exactly keen on the idea…   
“What if I was?”   
It was his turn to be shocked. Blue eyes rounded on her full of surprise.   
“What?”   
“Okay with it? Well, maybe not ‘okay’, but… What if I could handle it? Would that change things?”   
He shook his head.   
“You can’t. And I couldn’t… I wouldn’t put you in that position.”   
“If it’s that or nothing-”   
“No.” He cut her off. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare give me hope because I can’t take it.”   
The emotion in his voice was audible. She really wasn’t the only one who had fallen hard. It only served to rally her efforts. Bonnie took a chance and approached him, crouching in front of him so he couldn’t _not_ look at her. It was a conscious struggle not to touch him – to tousle her fingers in his hair or reach for his hands – but she didn’t want to risk him pulling away.   
“Damon, we have a shot at something here. It’s obvious we’re both already hurting from fighting it…” It shouldn’t have comforted her that he was affected as much as she was, but it did. ”What do we have to lose?”

The ensuing seconds of silence were the longest of her life. Damon looked right at her with a piercing gaze, as if searching for any hint of hesitation or insincerity, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact – she was resolute, he needed to know that. Her pulse was pounding so hard, she was sure it was audible in the quiet. Eventually, he loosed a sigh.   
“Just when I started to pick up the pieces... I’m so gonna regret this.”   
The smile bloomed unbidden on her face, and she couldn’t help but fall into him. After weeks of yearning, that first touch of his lips on hers was nothing short of electric: Like completing a circuit, it was as if life was flooding back into her. His hands cradled her face and hair – chaste, but intimate – as hers pulled him closer. It was like coming home. When they broke apart, it was only because she almost overbalanced and literally fell into him.

"Just so you know” There was an edge of lust in his voice that wasn’t there a second ago, and wow that _did things_ to her. “I'm terrible at the 'relationships' thing”   
"Hmm… How about the dating thing?"  
Damon's eyebrow quirked.  
"Aren't we a little past that?"  
"I'm not sure we are." He looked confused – maybe even a little hurt, but she persevered. "We did this whole thing kind of backwards. You're meant to start at getting to know one another - for us, that only happened after we were intimate." She took in a breath, not sure how this would go down. "Maybe we should start slow - keep things non-physical until we have a handle on where this is going. On if we work without it."  
She could tell from his expression that he wasn't keen on the idea. In truth, neither was she - the idea of going even an hour in his presence without him touching her was almost unbearable - but that was sort of the problem. Their physical chemistry was overwhelming – it would do them both good to prove to themselves there was more to it than that.  
"How long?"  
“How long what?"  
"How long do we have to keep things PG-13?"  
"Does that make a difference to if you're OK with it?"  
"No, but that doesn't mean I can't negotiate."   
He gave her a playful smirk, which she rolled her eyes at. She should've known he wouldn't give in without a fight.  
"I don't put out before the third date."  
"All evidence to the contrary."  
Bonnie gave him a sideways smile and a playful punch on the arm – inside, she was practically glowing with their return to their flirty norm.  
"Fine. I don't put out before the third date _with guys I'm serious about_." A soft smile graced his lips at that. “And I am. Serious. About you.”  
”How many dates can we have in a day?"  
Bonnie's lip curled up in an exasperated smile.  
"One. In fact make that one a _week_. You still want to negotiate?"  
"Are you really willing to make life harder for yourself just to spite me? Wait, don't answer that, of course you are." He sighed. "I'm working tonight. What're you doing tomorrow?"   
Bonnie ignored the pit in her stomach that appeared at the idea of him being with someone else tonight – that was just something she was going to have to get used to.

Saying goodbye was weird – he had never left her any less than thoroughly satisfied, and right now she was coiled like a spring, with nothing to sate her except a few chaste kisses. They had arranged to go for dinner tomorrow night, and she’d only realised after she’d picked a place that it was near enough to his apartment that she knew she would be fighting every impulse to go home with him. It would be an out and out lie to say she wasn’t nervous – she had never really had a candid, proper conversation with him where sex wasn’t on the cards, and she didn’t know what to expect. She had _butterflies_ in her stomach. When she closed the door behind her, she smiled to herself, looking forward to getting to know him all over again.


	13. Chapter 13

Damon was a nervous wreck. He couldn’t remember the last actual date he’d been on – one where he wasn’t being paid to be there, and where he was going as himself (not the polished, edited version of himself that was Dominic). He’d spent 30 minutes staring into his closet earlier, debating back and forth between practically identical black shirts, before realising he was acting like a crazy person and just picking one. Somehow this was so much harder than when he was being paid to do it – because he had to be himself, and with the exception of that one fateful night with Bonnie a couple months back, he hadn’t done that with a woman in a _really_ long time. And even with that, he had the cushion of sex to fall back on – it was spectacular the number of fuck ups a woman could forgive after a few orgasms; this was the tightrope without the net. He kept checking his phone. Even though he was early, he was paranoid she would realise she was making a huge mistake and stand him up. Because what the hell did he have to offer a woman like her? He might be dynamite in the sack and pretty to look at, but underneath that he was all sarcasm and front: She was beautiful, vibrant, witty, kind… She was Fortune 500, where Damon barely finished high school. Hell, he couldn’t even promise fidelity. He didn’t know what she was thinking in taking a chance on him.

Damon snapped out of his little self-pity party the second he saw her (he could’ve sworn he almost felt her before she even walked in). She hadn’t seen him yet, which gave him a couple of uninterrupted seconds to pick his jaw up off the floor – she looked incredible, the electric blue dress she wore providing a brilliant contrast with the verdant green of her eyes and her cocoa skin. It was long enough to be classy (she always looked classy), but showed plenty of those long, smooth legs he had plenty of fond memories of being between. There were long, fitted sleeves that again kept it from looking slutty, but her shoulders and clavicle were left bare. The idea of spending the evening sat across from her with her looking like _that_ \- knowing there was no chance of going home with her at the end of the night - suddenly had him sweating. Bonnie leaned across to speak to the maître-d and he gestured to the table where Damon was sat. Her gaze followed and her smile in his direction practically lit up the room, and he could feel a goofy smile of his own spreading across his face in response ( _smooth… not_ ). He remembered a second later that he was in a fancy ass restaurant and he should get up to greet her and half-scrambled to his feet ( _seriously, get it together_ ). She gave him one of those looks that made him feel like an awkward teenager and he wondered how he’d got so lucky.

\---

As Bonnie walked over to the table where Damon was waiting for her, she smoothed down the fabric of her dress and questioned her clothing choice for what felt like the millionth time. Bonnie had lost count of how many outfit combinations she’d tried on in the past five hours. _Five hours._ That was how long she’d been agonising over this date. She was pretty sure that qualified her for some kind of diagnosis. She’d never been this nervous about a date before – not even her first date with Elena’s brother Jeremy, and she’d been terrified of screwing that up because of what it might mean for her friendship. But this felt like there was so much riding on it: When you go on a first date, it’s usually (with the exception of certain shitty blind dates that will never be spoken of again) on a background of some flirtation, a little chemistry, and the beginnings of a connection. It’s an exploration of whether you click with that person the way you thought you would, and whether, over time, those sparks of attraction catch fire. With Damon, she’d done everything backwards: She barely knew him, but the heat between them already threatened to sear her skin. This wasn’t about fanning the flames, it was about cooling them down and finding out what else there was between them. She’d spent longer with him than she had with a lot of the guys she’d dated, and it was obvious there was something more than just lust between them for them both to be as affected as they had been by one another’s absence, but she still barely knew him at all, and although for obvious reasons she’d been less cagey about her personal life, he didn’t know her much better. Suffice it to say, she had good cause to be nervous: There was a lot more riding on this than your average date.

Damon looked _good_. And not just his normal temptation-incarnate, sex-on-a-stick good – there was a subtle difference to his aesthetic that was more stylish than purely sexy. The sight of him still made her stomach flip, and she didn’t doubt that it would still be wrenchingly unpleasant leaving him at the end of the night to go to bed alone, but unlike the other times she’d seen him, she wasn’t hit with the almost overwhelming urge to strip him naked and mount him heedless of her surroundings (which was fortunate, because the idea of getting through the whole date with damp thighs clenched together in frustration wasn’t a fun one): She presumed this was the first of what would likely prove to be many differences between Damon and the version of himself he presented as ‘Dominic’, and so far she approved.

He stood as she approached and leaned in to greet her with a chaste kiss on the cheek that almost ached in its brevity.   
“Hi.” His breath was warm on her skin and she so wanted to lean in for a proper kiss.<   
“Hi.” There was a moment of quiet, and it occurred to her she might not be the only one struggling with this. “Nervous?” she ventured.   
“Terrified.”   
She gave a sympathetic half-laugh.   
“Thank god it’s not just me.” She went to sit down, and was a little surprised when he went to pull out her chair for her. “Thank you. That’s very… chivalrous.”   
Her surprise must’ve been evident in her voice.   
“What? I can be a gentleman.” Bonnie’s train of thought was derailed by a mischievous glint in Damon’s eyes - so brief and small, she half-thought she might have imagined it - but for a second, the unbidden visual of that exact look smirking up at her from between her thighs as she came so hard she’d need scraping off the ceiling flashed in her mind. She felt the memory so keenly it was hard to keep her composure, and she had to take a second to reassert her breathing. “You okay?”   
She put on a smile and forced herself to meet his eyes.   
“I’m fine, it’s just…” She didn’t really know how to finish that sentence.   
“I get it.” Initially Bonnie was sceptical, but she had almost forgotten his ability to read her body like a book. “ _Believe me_. Would it’ve killed you to wear a turtleneck?”

It was reassuring to know he was on the same page, and once the initial awkwardness had passed (and they had the buffer of a little Dutch courage in the form of a bottle of wine), things mellowed, and she started to relax in his company. They kept the conversation light, talking through appetisers and a good way into their main courses about what had been going on with one another for the past few weeks (though the topics were light, and she still didn’t know any more about him than when they’d started): Klaus had been off sick and Katherine had taken a few of his clients (the ones who didn’t mind a female Domme), and Damon had joined a new gym after another close call with no-neck guy. Bonnie had been working herself half to death to keep busy, and now she was getting some backlash because she was trying to step back again. While talking about her work, he’d asked about the ‘bright ideas’ week proposal.   
“I totally forgot – I meant to tell you, the board really went for the idea you picked out.”   
“Oh my god, the one for the scholarships? That’s amazing!” His excitement was genuine. “Wow, I helped do a thing.”   
“Yeah, you did.” She smiled. “Can I ask why you picked it? I take it from your reaction that it wasn’t random.”   
Something about the subject matter obviously gave him pause, as he went quiet for a moment, as if considering whether to answer. Bonnie was about to tell him he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to (although the curiosity would gnaw at to her).   
“My brother.” His voice was quiet and a little hesitant – Bonnie froze, afraid to interrupt. This was the first time he’d hinted at anything of real significance about himself. He took in a breath. “My little brother, Stefan. He was a quarterback in high school – and a damn good one. He earned himself a full ride at med school, but senior year an illegal tackle fucked up his shoulder. Bank of mom and dad would’ve had him covered, except my dad was an asshole and blew both our college funds in Reno or Atlantic City or whatever other dive with a craps table would take him when he couldn’t afford Vegas anymore.” Damon took a significant swig of wine. “Seeing as it was me on my back keeping him in college, the cause naturally hit kinda close to home.”

Bonnie’s elation at finally being let in on something more than superficial information about Damon soon turned to guilt: She had always wondered in the back of her mind what would make someone choose prostitution, and had half-feared the answer. Now she knew she had been right to, and she couldn’t even look at him. Damon had half convinced her he liked his job, that he was doing it because he wanted to and he was good at it, but knowing that financial need had driven him to it… and that she had enjoyed the fruits of his labour. That was unforgivable.   
“Hey, if you’re thinking I’m some kind of victim here, I’m not. I may not have chosen this at career fair in junior high, might’ve fallen into it ass-backwards, but I earned enough for him to finish out med school _years_ ago.” She glanced back up. “I wouldn’t still be doing it if I didn’t like it, if I didn’t want to.”   
Bonnie told herself to put her reservations aside, at least for now: Everything was going so well, it wasn’t the time.   
“So how exactly do you stumble in to this job?”   
“Probably not how you’d think. It’s kind of embarrassing actually.” She indicated for him to tell her the story, and he did this kind of coy, self-conscious laugh that might just have melted her heart a little. “So, after I quit the army-“   
“Wait, you were in the army?!” The mental image of Damon in uniform was dangerous for her blood pressure.   
“For a brief, not particularly noteworthy period, but that’s a different embarrassing story. We’re not finished this one yet.”   
“You still got the uniform?”   
She raised an eyebrow flirtatiously and caught her lip between her teeth, and was gratified by the way his eyes darkened lustfully.   
“Guess you might find out after the third date.” She felt the way he looked at her in a deep ache between her legs. _Fuck_. “Anyway, so after the army, I tried my hand at a bunch of different stuff - never lasted long at any one spot before my attitude got me in trouble. Bartending was the best of a bad bunch – my, uh, _personality_ tended to be an asset on ladies night – but it still wasn’t enough to keep both me and Stef. Then I met Katherine. She was in the bar I was working to meet a client, and I tried – obviously unsuccessfully – to chat her up. I think the only reason she didn’t tell me to go fuck myself was that she saw me as a potential client before she figured out how broke I was. She let slip that her place of employment was looking for bartenders and I jumped at the chance, thinking maybe I could get her attention.” He laughed softly. “I have _never_ been so glad someone wasn’t interested in me.”

“So you started out on bar? Is that normal?” Bonnie couldn’t imagine Klaus or Katherine ever doing something so mundane as pouring drinks.   
“Not at all.” He took a drink. “I was making decent enough money behind the bar – Indigo pays hush money, and the clientele tips _extremely_ well – but I was a cocky little shit.” He took a pause to sip his drink. “I don’t think you ever met Sage, did you?” Bonnie shook her head. “Sage is the owner of Indigo - I guess you'd call her the Madam, right? She is every bit the ball-buster you’d imagine a Madam to be. I was young, hot, and I’d never been kicked out of bed – figured I was _more_ than qualified to take a step up the ladder, that my talents were wasted behind the bar. So I pestered Sage to let me play with the big kids. She kept telling me to dream on, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I don’t take rejection all that well, so I decided to take the direct approach: I went to her office after work one day and I told her: ‘Let me prove it. Spend one night with me, and if you’re not 100% satisfied, I’ll never mention it again’.”   
“Oh my god. You propositioned your boss?!”   
He nodded. “Told you I was cocky.”   
“I can’t believe she didn’t fire you! What did she say?”   
“‘Close the door. You have an hour’.”   
Bonnie was gobsmacked. Apparently no-one was immune to Damon’s charms.   
“Must’ve been some performance to impress a seasoned pro.”  
He laughed.   
”Not exactly. She told me my stamina wouldn’t cut it, my technique was disappointing, and my underwear was cheap.”   
Bonnie almost choked on her wine.   
“Seriously?” Try as she might, she couldn’t imagine a world that couldn’t be rocked by a night with Damon.   
“As I learned, there is a significant difference in standards between impressing drunk party girls and going pro. My ego took a serious bruising, but apparently my charisma and, uh, _physical attributes_ were enough that she saw some potential. She set me up with an equally unimpressed Katherine to learn the ropes, and that was that.”   
A flirty smile crept across Bonnie’s face.   
“Well, nowadays your underwear costs more than most guys spend on a suit, I have no complaints about your stamina, and I can _definitely_ vouch for your technique.” She licked her spoon suggestively. “Especially that thing you do with your tongue.”   
She was rewarded with a flash of pure mischief in Damon’s eyes.   
“You sure?” He licked his lips and _hey, what do you know, there’s that feeling where I just want to jump him again_. “It’s been a while. Maybe your memory needs refreshing.”

He’d said it in that tone that was pure bedroom, and the impact of it hit her like a truck. The assent was on the tip of her tongue – it would be so easy to skip dessert, go back to his place, and get reacquainted with his body (if they even made it that far, at this point she’d take the alley outside). She swallowed hard and turned her gaze downwards as she tried to reassert her resolve. Damon seemed to realise he’d overstepped.   
“Sorry.” He winced.   
“It’s not your fault. I just… Go easy on my willpower, okay?”   
To his credit, he changed the subject seamlessly, and she managed the rest of the date without any more moments feeling like he’d knocked every breath of air from her lungs. In fact, things only started to become difficult once it was time to call it a night: Walking to the taxi rank (the one tantalisingly close to his apartment block) in charged silence as she mentally worked herself up to getting into the cab alone. Damon was the one to break it.   
“So presuming you aren’t sick of the sight of me yet, are we still on for a second date next week?”  
_God, yes_. It couldn’t come soon enough.

  
“We are.”  
“Do I get to pick where?”  
She eyed him with suspicion, but his expression gave nothing away.  
“I guess I did pick tonight… Sure. What’re we doing?”  
“That’s for me to know, and you to dot, dot, dot.”  
She glared at him.  
“I hate surprises.”  
”See? We’re getting to know one another. I learned you hate surprises, and you learned I don’t care.” She gave him a playful hit on the arm. “Ow! Y’know, if I was into that, I’d be dating Klaus.”  
Bonnie giggled (an actual giggle, not a laugh – _god, what is this guy doing to me?_ ), but her mirth was soon lost as she realised they were fast approaching the taxi rank. She really wasn’t ready for tonight to be over, and from the look on Damon’s face, he wasn’t either. This wasn’t going to be easy, especially with Damon’s building looming in the background – the elephant in the room.  
“This is my stop.” Bonnie ground out.  
“Looks like.”  
The unspoken ‘ _do you wanna come up?_ ’ hung between them.  
“I had a really great time tonight.”<  
“So did I.”

He opened the cab door for her, and for one horrible moment Bonnie thought the night might end without even a kiss goodnight. But when she went to slide past him, he pulled her into him and his lips fell to hers. The kiss was painfully innocent, but promised so much – his lips brushed against hers teasingly, almost daring her to give in and deepen it, and his pressed against her so close that she could feel the heat of him bleeding through the fabric of her dress. It was hypnotic, and enticing, and far, far too brief. It sounds cliché, but when they broke apart and she looked up at him, she almost got lost in his eyes – those pools of unearthly blue deep enough to drown in. He made this gentle contented ‘hm’ sound and she shivered feeling it rumble in his chest.   
“See you next week.” He was still close enough that she felt his breath on her skin as he spoke.   
“Count on it.”   
It was torture pulling way from him, feeling the absence of his body against hers, but somehow she found the willpower to get in the cab. She couldn’t help but look back at him as the cab pulled off, and when she settled into her seat, she found herself absently touching her lips ass they tingled. She got a text a minute later:   
D: _That should’ve been our first kiss_


	14. Chapter 14

_B: So if you won’t tell me where we’re going, how am I supposed to know what to wear? Or where to meet you?_   
_D: I’ll pick you up. And I’d say this is pretty definitely a casual affair. Wear something comfy_   
_B: That just raises so many questions_   
_D: I like to keep the ladies guessing_   
_B: And comfy isn’t sexy_   
_D: After the tension-fest that was our last date, you really think we need to dial up the sex factor?_   
_B: Good point_   
_B: I don’t get any more clues?_   
_D: In your dreams_   
_B: Asshole_   
_B: Wait, was that you blowing me off or was that a clue?_   
_B: Damon?_   
_B: ??_

\---

Waiting for their second date was the longest week of Bonnie’s life. That first date had been - for lack of a better word - perfect: She’d gotten to know him a little, started to scratch the surface that, and even without the promise of sex their chemistry had been electric. And that _kiss_ … It was like her body had been struck by lightning and it had reinvigorated every memory of his body on hers. By the time today had rolled around, she had butterflies in her stomach. She’d dressed casually like he’d said to, but ‘casual’ didn’t have to mean ‘unsexy’ – after some deliberation and a vaguely-worded fashion advice call to Caroline, she’d gone for darkwash skinny jeans, flat boots, and a black bardot-neckline top. Her phone gave a quick buzz in her pocket.   
_D: I’m outside_   
Bonnie grabbed her purse and opened the door, doing a quick double-take.

Damon had always arrived at her place in a cab or an Uber, but this time he was leaned casually against a vintage-looking light blue car. She knew immediately it wasn’t a rental – it was classic, stylish, masculine, effortlessly cool… It was 100% Damon.   
“Nice ride.” She said by way of greeting.

  
His only response was a raised eyebrow, which was enough to convey his meaning: _“I know I am, what about the car?.”_ The fact such a diminutive gesture from him could send shivers down spine was still amazing to her.  
Unlike their first date, this time he welcomed her by pulling her into a searing kiss that made her toes curl inside her boots.  
“So, you gonna tell me where we’re going yet?”  
”Nope”. He popped the ‘p’ in a way that somehow both irked her and made her think about his lips again. “Ready to get this show on the road?”  
Bonnie had a flash of inspiration.  
“This mystery date: Is it a time-limited thing?”  
He looked intrigued. “I guess not. What did you have in mind?”  
She bit her lip in the way he’d once said drove him crazy.  
“Could we maybe go for a drive first?” She said, running a hand over the hood of the car.  
“Someplace you wanna go?”  
“Not really.” She shook her head. “But it seems kind of a shame not to take this baby for a spin, right?”  
He gave her this look like she was made of gold.  
“I knew there was a reason I was crazy about you.”  
Fifteen minutes or so later, windows rolled down, Bonnie’s feet up on the dash, both singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs without a shred of musical talent between them, nothing had ever felt so right.

Still, much as this was an amazing way to spend an evening, Bonnie’s curiosity was still eating away at her about what he had planned. When he turned into a car park she recognised, Bonnie was none the wiser as to what it might be.   
“This is a department store.”   
“Ding, ding, ding. Give the lady a prize.” He pulled the car into a bay and turned the engine off.   
“So… I don’t get it. Are we going shopping?”  
”Kinda.”   
If he gave one more noncommittal answer, she was going to lose it.   
“What does ’Kinda’ mean?”   
“It means ‘take the control-freak stick out of your butt and just go with it’.”   
She wanted to bite back, but… He kind of had a point.   
“Okay.” He was obviously a little taken aback that she had given in without a protracted argument, but he hid his surprise well. “Consider me open minded and stick-free. Lead on.”   
Damon came around and opened the car door for her and she bit back a sarcastic comment – unused to men who were actually chivalrous. When he reached out and offered her his hand to help her up, she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes, but was unable to contain the shiver that ran through her at the gentle touch. He led her through the store – past the shoes, clothes, and linens to…   
“Furniture?”   
“Yeah, I thought we could take the opportunity to right fix something that _desperately_ needs addressing at your place.” Bonnie followed his line of sight and let out a disbelieving laugh. He _had_ said that he hated her mattress… “Fortunately for you,” he continued “Indigo goes through more mattresses in a year than you can shake a stick at, and Sage trusts me with the purse strings, so I think I’m more than qualified.”   
“What if I like my mattress?”   
”You’re entitled to your wrong opinion.” She feigned offence. “And even if you finish up deciding to stick with the Passion Killer 9000 model you have at home, we still get to roll around in bed together in a way that is ‘Bonnie Bennett Second Date’ approved, so I’m counting that as a win.”   
He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that she couldn’t help but giggle at. Points for creativity, at least – this was already nothing like any date she’d ever been on.

This close to closing time, the store was all but deserted, and they were the only ones in the entire department. Bonnie swallowed hard: She had a lot of memories that involved Damon, privacy, and a readily available bed, and all of them seemed to flash through her mind at once she let Damon lead her further in to the section.   
“If memory of our tragically singular slumber party serves, you sleep on your side, right?”   
Bonnie tried and failed to stop her mind from zeroing in on that particular night.

  
“Yeah.”  
“So side sleepers are supposed to like the firmer mattresses, but seeing as you currently like sleeping on a marshmallow let’s start somewhere in the middle and go from there.” He inclined his head in a ‘come with’ gesture, heading towards the middle of the section. When he found the one he was looking for, he flung himself onto it with an unfair amount of grace, rolling across to the other side before coming to a rest on his knees, beckoning her to join him. She tentatively sat on the edge. “Okay, that’s not gonna cut it. C’mon, lie down.” Considering her brain was still running through a highlight reel of their best moments in bed, Bonnie was hesitant, but she scooted down and laid back. The mattress was firmer than she was used to, and she fidgeted a little to try and get comfortable. “So what do you think?”  
Bonnie wiggled in place.  
“I… I’m not sure. I don’t hate it, I guess? I’m not comfy though.”

  
Damon leaned in and she half-flinched away, half-thinking he might be going in for a kiss in such a pubic place. Instead, his hand slid under her back; her body sparked at the contact, wishing for skin to skin.  
“You feel how I have a little room back here under you?” She nodded. “That means this is a little too firm for you.”  
It was hard to follow his logic when his hand under her just felt _good_.  
“How should it feel?”  
“Well, if I can’t fit my hand here at all, it’s too soft. What we want is a little tighter fit.“ He pressed his hand firmly into the small of her back, and her breath hitched a little as she thought about exactly the kind of tight fit she was missing right now - had been missing for weeks. “Like this.”  
She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him.  
“So where do we go from here?”  
“Much to my disappointment, somewhere softer.”  
“So what you’re saying is…” Bonnie’s lip curled up into a smile. “That I was right all along.”  
“Hey, I said soft-ER, not so soft you need a ladder to get out of it.” Bonnie let out a little yelp of surprise when the hand at the small of her back pushed up sharply, bringing her upright. “Let’s move, c’mon.”

Damon – who definitely knew his way around - led her across the showroom to another bed. There was a conspicuous absence of sales staff bugging them, and she had a feeling that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he was here often for Indigo.   
“Okay, give this one a whirl.”   
Bonnie felt the difference immediately, and let out an audible moan when she laid back.   
“Oh this is a definite improvement. I don’t think it’s as soft as I’m used to, but it feels good.” She kept talking as Damon took his place next to her and – with a little resistance – slid his hand under the small of her back again. “I might even like it better.”   
Damon looked sceptical.   
“Well, it passes the hand test, but let me show you the issue I’m having. Get up her and kneel with me.” She sat up and slid to her knees. “Spread your thighs a little wider.” She blushed and looked around, but there was still no-one around, so she did as she was told. Her cheeks heated even more when she felt the mattress dip and he shifted to align himself behind her, his hips flush with hers. “Okay, now roll your hips forward.” He moved with her, and for a second it was all she could do not to audibly moan. But she soon understood what he meant: Even with her legs in a stable stance, the mattress was so spongy and soft that it was almost impossible to balance without support. She toppled forwards with a yelp. Looking back at the look of smug amusement on Damon’s face, she couldn’t help but throw a pillow up at him.   
“Point taken.” She conceded. It was obvious that sex would be both less strenuous and more fun on that first mattress. “But I only have space for one bed at my place, and there’s no way I could sleep on that concrete slab over there.” She sighed. “I feel like Goldilocks.”   
“So let’s find you one that’s just right.” He threw the pillow back and she deflected it. “Luckily, I’m a genius.” He offered her his arm to pull her upright. “Follow me.”

He led her across to a third bed, and on climbing in…   
“Oh, wow.”   
She immediately felt the difference. This one was another soft mattress, but had a memory foam topper, and it was so soft and luxurious it was like laying on a cloud, but with a firmness from the foam that felt supportive.   
He rolled on to the other side next to her.   
“So, what’s the verdict?”   
Bonnie had finally found her stride with the weird dynamic of this date, and she decided it was time to turn the tables a little. She pretended to think about it for a second.   
“I’m not sure. Let me try something.” Bonnie relished the look of surprise on his face when she got up and swung her leg over him, moving to straddle him. The store was still deserted, so she didn’t feel a hint of self-consciousness about grinding on him as she rolled her hips forward. She was quietly smug about the way his eyes darkened. “Yeah, I think this is a good fit, don’t you?” (That she managed to keep a straight face was a miracle).   
“Perfect.” His hands ran along the back of her thighs, and his voice had that hint of gravel it got when he was affected, neither of which were doing anything for her willpower in not taking him home tonight (or right there in the store).

At the risk of getting caught by store security in a compromising position, she reluctantly dismounted; she was suitably convinced to part with her money (although Damon could probably sell sand in the Sahara), refusing Damon’s offer to pay. He was a perfect gentleman as she spoke to the sales guy, except for the split second when his back was turned to take her card payment and Damon leaned in close to whisper “just think about how much fun we'll have breaking it in - gonna fuck you so hard”, and her toes curled in her shoes at his breath on her ear. She didn’t even have the chance to process the fact he’d said it, let alone look shocked before the clerk turned back around; in fact, she’d half thought she might have imagined it, if it wasn’t for the fact that his neutral expression was the picture of feigned innocence. She resigned herself to getting her own back later – it seemed to be a central dynamic of their relationship that they were always battling to see who was on top, and it kept things exciting and fun. She never wanted that to stop.

As he drove her home, Bonnie reflected on what was probably the weirdest date she’d ever been on. The drive at the start hadn’t been planned, but that spontaneity just set the tone perfectly. It was good to see more of the natural, unpolished Damon and just spend time with him. When they’d gotten to the planned part, she had been sceptical at first – when they’d walked into that department store, she didn’t get it – but in retrospect, it had been a smart and unique idea: Equal parts sexy, fun, and memorable. Bonnie knew she’d never have another date like this one, and it was something she’d never forget. And when she laid down on that new mattress to sleep at night, she’d think about him.

When they pulled up outside her place, Bonnie felt a pang of regret that it was over, and him walking her to her front door felt risky. When it came to Damon, she had less than zero self-control, and she knew if he pushed his luck and asked to come in, she wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’ to him.   
_So much for not putting out before the third date_ , she thought ruefully.

  
The tension was palpable between them as they walked up to her door in silence - Bonnie’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She’d never felt so apprehensive about a goodnight kiss, and yet she craved it as if it were a drug. There wasn’t any hint of awkwardness or hesitation as she reached the porch and turned around – the kiss was as inevitable as gravity. She’d been planning to tell Damon she’d had a great night, but before she could even form the words, he had her pressed up against the wall of her porch. His whole body moulded to hers so tight that a sheet of paper wouldn’t have slid between them, and she moaned into his mouth. Her lips yielded to his, his tongue slipping in and teasing at hers in a way that sent sparks through her whole body. She was grateful for his hand sliding into her hair, grounding her so she didn’t feel like she would float away, his fingers working teasingly against her scalp and deepening the kiss until it was like something out of a romance movie. Meanwhile, his other hand was far less innocent, cupping the top of her thigh where it met her ass cheek and grinding her against him. She could feel him hardening against her core and suddenly it was as if she forgot how to breathe; her hips snapped up instinctively, and she tasted the way he almost purred in response.

The kiss was molten flame – she wanted to lose herself in it until it reduced her to nothing but ashes, and she didn’t think anyone could blame her for leaning into it and chasing more when Damon pulled back – not far enough to feel the absence of his body heat, but just far enough for his eyes to flutter open and meet hers. He licked his lips and brought his thumb down the side of her face, running it along her lower lip. Bonnie was the one to break the silence – saying something she’d never said on a second date before.   
“Stay over.”   
It was somewhere between an offer and a plea. She had so wanted to hold out, but her need for him was overwhelming.   
“What happened to your rule?”   
_The smug asshole wanted to hear it? Fine._   
“Fuck the rule.” She breathed.

  
There was a beat of silence which seemed to stretch forever.  
“You have no idea how much I want to.” His nose brushed hers and his lips were tantalisingly close. “But I won’t.”  
“Why?”  
“Because it’s important to you.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “And you’re worth waiting for.” He leaned back in for a kiss so tender and chaste it couldn’t have been more different to the way they’d been making out like horny teenagers a minute ago, his pillowy soft lips gently massaging hers for the briefest moment before he pulled back. “Goodnight, Bonnie.”  
She felt the chill of the night air kiss her body as he withdrew, and she watched with a mix of relief and regret as he made his way back to the car. When she got inside, she let herself sag against the door and sighed, the ghost of his kiss still lingering long after he was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

The next day:   
_B: It occurred to me that we didn’t decide what we’re doing for our next date_   
_D: Are you sure you’re still interested? You seemed kind of disinterested last night…_   
The sarcasm radiated through the phone – but Bonnie would give as good as she got.   
_B: I could say the same for you. You know, the way you were hard as a rock was really ambiguous_   
_D: Touché_   
B: So what are we doing next week?   
_D: Come to my place - I’ll cook_   
Bonnie smiled the second she read his message – evidently he was just as impatient to get her in bed as she was if he was suggesting his apartment as the venue. However, she knew he was good in the kitchen, so no doubt he’d be striving to impress.   
_B: Only if you promise ‘dinner’ isn’t just you covered in whipped cream and strawberries_   
_D: Don’t be stupid… That’s clearly dessert_   
She rolled her eyes   
_D: I was gonna make a ‘banana split’ joke, but I literally felt you roll your eyes at me_   
_B: Creepily accurate_   
_D: Anyway, as if I would serve you anything less than a decadent 3 course meal - my Italian ancestors would pelt me with rigatoni from the great beyond_   
_B: Throw in a chocolate dessert, and I’m sold_   
_D: Casa Salvatore it is_

\---

They batted a few messages back and forth throughout the week, and by Friday Bonnie was like a coiled spring. She didn’t know how she was supposed to get through a 3 course meal opposite Damon with the added temptation of a bed in close proximity. As she walked up to his apartment block, she tried to push the thought of the spare underwear she had stashed in her purse and the fact she’d chosen her dress based on ease of removal out of her mind before pressing the buzzer for his apartment number.   
_Don’t think about sex. Don’t think about sex. Don’t think about sex._   
“Helga’s House of Pain” Damon’s sultry voice crackled through the intercom.

  
 _Damnit._  
“You always answer the door like that?”  
”Yeah, the Amazon Prime guy loves it when I talk dirty.” The door buzzed. “Come on up.”

Getting out of the elevator, Damon had left his door ajar so she could get straight in without knocking. She could already smell something amazing even from down the hall – clearly he’d been hard at work, and given what he’d managed to rustle up at her place with incredibly basic ingredients, she was keen to see what he was capable of. She knocked softly before opening the door so she didn’t startle him by just walking in, and something about the scene that greeted her just brought an instant fond smile to her face: Damon looked utterly in his element – relaxed, comfortable, and obviously on top of things (Bonnie dreaded to imagine the chaos that would have been her kitchen if she tried to cook a fancy meal from scratch – even if there wasn’t actual fire, there would at least be a sink piled high with dishes). He was multitasking seamlessly, and was so invested in what he was doing that it took him a second to even notice her arrival. When he did, he immediately dropped what he was doing and cleaned his hands on the dish towel slung over his shoulder, heading over to greet her with a simple “Hi” and a kiss.   
In hindsight, the kiss _may_ have been a mistake.

The kiss itself wasn’t particularly raunchy, but it didn’t take much to stoke the fire that had been building over weeks of abstaining from crossing that line with one another: Now that it was finally ( _finally_ ) ‘allowed’, it was like a dam burst. Bonnie couldn’t tell you who was responsible for turning it heated, but the tone changed on a dime, going from a quick ‘hello’ to something steamy and passionate. She quickly found her back pressed up against the door with her legs wrapped around his hips. When she surfaced for air, his lips made their way to her neck and her body combusted in response. She dug her nails into his back and was rewarded with a primal groan as he pressed his hardness against her and she saw stars. Her sigh when his fingers slid between them and over her underwear was equal parts desire and relief, and she pushed back against the door, using the leverage to convey her need – she was already soaked and it felt like she would die without him inside her soon.

It was all need and very little finesse; every other time they’d been together had been an exercise in taking her apart piece by piece, but this was explosive decompression. Damon had always treated foreplay as an event in itself – dedicating time and expertise to making sure she was so worked up and blissed out that she was barely coherent before sex was ever on the menu - and Bonnie really _loved_ that… but it wasn’t what either of them needed right now. When he pushed her underwear aside and pressed two fingers into her as his teeth nipped at her neck, she let out a gasp as he worked her open with hurried efficiency. It wasn’t more than a minute before she was writhing eagerly on his fingers, her teeth at his ear and hot breath on his neck, impatiently fumbling for his belt buckle and fly. Damon’s eyes flashed open and sought hers as he realised she wasn’t just asserting his arousal (not that there was any need when he was heavy and weeping in her hand), but was pulling him free and lining him up with her entrance. Bonnie knew he was probably concerned she was moving too fast, but even if she hadn’t practically been ready for him since last week, she wanted to feel the _stretch_. She countered his concern by steering his face back out of the hollow of her neck and delving her tongue into his mouth in a deep kiss as she positioned him, barely giving him a moment to withdraw her fingers before starting to press him in.

Damon half-whimpered and half-groaned into her mouth as he sank into her – a sound of pure satisfaction - and a shiver ran over her whole body as he spread her wide; just the right side of too much. His hand slid under her thigh to support her and pull her flush against him. There was too much urgency on both sides to pause and adjust, and he almost immediately set a punishing rhythm, thrusting into her hard. Normally Bonnie was all about the slow burn, but after _weeks_ of pent-up tension, it was very therapeutic and gratifying, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way; his thrusts were sharp and forceful, but when he was fully seated he would grind against her and the friction would make her eyes roll back. Her hands sought purchase wherever they could, fingers digging into the muscle of his back and pulling at his hair. She was developing a borderline fetish for the way his lips and teeth teased at her neck – she’d never been a ‘neck’ girl, but there was something about Damon that definitely evoked that in her.

This was never destined to last long – it was too frenzied and desperate for that. Bonnie could feel his thrusts get a little shallower just a second or two before his hand slid between them, those grinding thrusts giving way to dexterous fingers coaxing her to a near-violent climax that had her back arching hard and her fingers twisting hard in his hair. Damon followed mere seconds after, pulsing into her in a hot rush; she would be wearing his fingerprints on her hips tomorrow, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Their breathing started to slow as they came down from their high. Bonnie was still feeling kind of blissed out, but it had started to dawn on her exactly what had just happened. Her underwear was still on, pushed to the side, they were both coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and he was just starting to soften inside her… about 10 minutes into their ‘date’.   
“Well, that was bracing. Hi, by the way.” She breathed out weakly.

  
It took him a second for his brain to remember how to process words, but she felt him laugh just as her own smile broke out on her face, and she started to giggle as well  
“Oh my god.” He buried his face in between her neck and her chin. “This was not even remotely the plan.” He said with a half-apologetic, half-amused tone – he knew as well as she did that this was inevitable.  
“I blame you entirely.” Her breath was still uneven. “The bed shopping date? Come on.”  
“Says the girl in the ‘come fuck me’ dress.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Totally your fault.”  
“Is something burning?”  
Damon looked over to the kitchenette, finally remembering the meal he was in the middle of cooking before they got distracted. “Fuck.”  
He withdrew from her and let her down to her feet, hastily tucking himself away and doing up his flies and speed-washing his hands before trying to salvage their dinner. The whole thing was kind of hilarious, especially through the post-orgasmic euphoria.  
“I’m gonna go clean up. Then let me know what I can do to help, okay?”  
”You can stop being so damn sexy and making me fuck up my ravioli.” He shouted after her, and she smiled again as she shut the bathroom door.

\---

Bonnie made quick work of cleaning herself up, a stupid sex-drunk smile plastered on her face the whole time. When she got back out to the kitchen, Damon seemed to have reigned in the chaos in the kitchen, leaving her the simple task of pouring the wine while he went off to clean himself up. He leaned in for a quick affectionate peck, leaning back and chiding himself with a “No. Bad idea. Kissing leads to not-dinner”, which had Bonnie laughing as he ran off, the goofy smile on his face mirroring hers.

The meal was probably the best thing she’d ever eaten: Asparagus and veal tartlets, lobster ravioli, and tiramisu, all cooked from scratch. It was really incredible, but the best part of it by far was how comfortable she was with Damon: The sex had taken the edge off of the tension, and they just relaxed into one another’s company, laughing and bickering and teasing and flirting. Hours felt like minutes, and before she knew it, it was already gone 10pm.   
“Alright – they’ll revoke my claim to my heritage if I don’t finish things with an espresso.”   
”Ew, no. I hate espresso.”   
He looked at her like she was an alien.   
“Well this relationship clearly isn’t going to work out.” She gave him a playful slap on the arm. “I know you drink coffee. How can you not like espresso?”   
“It’s too strong, it’s like rocket fuel. I don’t know how people drink it.”   
“I can’t live without it. On any given day, about 60% of my blood is ground from Arabica beans.”   
“I’ll stick to instant, thanks.”   
”Literal sacrilege. At least let me try and change your mind.”   
Bonnie looked at him sceptically. “I don’t know…”   
“Besides, you’re gonna need something to help keep your energy levels up.” His eyes flashed with that glint of mischief that had her thighs squeezing together in want. “Just in case you were under the mistaken impression you were getting any sleep tonight.” He added pointedly.   
Espresso suddenly seemed like a _great_ idea.

Once he’d made that comment, it was impossible to think about anything else, and Bonnie found her eyes travelling down and checking out his ass as he faced the counter to prepare the coffee. She’d been feeling that sweet, pleasant throb between her legs all evening; it had been a tantalising reminder of that delicious quickie, but now it had been replaced with an ache to feel him filling her up again. The mood of the evening had changed completely – whereas the past few hours had flown by, now it felt like time was moving at the pace of pouring treacle. Her mind had been so stuck in the gutter that she hadn’t really been paying attention to what he was doing, and now...   
“Is that ice cream?”   
“Gelato. Which you would’ve heard the first time I said it if your focus hadn’t been superglued to my ass for the last 10 minutes. Feeling kind of objectified right now.”   
She didn’t bother to deny it.   
“We had dessert already.”   
“This isn’t dessert. It’s coffee. And I wouldn’t need to add gelato if _someone_ wasn’t an espresso-hating heretic.” Bonnie made a sound of faux-offence. “Anyway, let’s see if we can’t change that.”   
He brought over a couple of small espresso cups, each with a tiny saucer with a spoonful of butterscotch-coloured gelato.   
“It does just kind of feel like bribing me with ice cream.”   
“You’re entitled to your wrong opinion.” He bit back. “Okay, close your eyes.”   
“Really?”   
”I know it’s super hard to tear your eyes away from me, but I’m sure you’ll live. Close ‘em.” She rolled her eyes, but did close them. “Now open your mouth.” She bit back her sarcasm and did as she was told, bracing for the abrasive bitterness of the espresso. She was surprised when instead she got the cold sweetness of the caramel gelato. “Okay, hold it on your tongue, but keep your mouth open a little. Keep your eyes closed.” Her tongue was starting to feel uncomfortably cold, and she was about to protest when she felt the familiar pressure of Damon’s lips on hers, and her mouth instinctively moulded to his, chasing the warmth of his mouth. There was an unexpected rush of heat, and she realised the espresso was in his kiss, melting the gelato on her tongue as the bitterness cut into the overt sweetness. She swallowed and moaned as his tongue slid in to massage hers, and her nerve endings lit up like Christmas with the change in temperature. Damon had this incredible ability to make something mundane into the most erotic, sensual experience, and this was very much _not_ about the coffee anymore as Damon pulled Bonnie over into straddling his lap.

In a dramatic counterpoint to their earlier frenzy, this time he seemed intent on taking his time getting slowly and thoroughly reacquainted with every inch of her body, evidently starting with her mouth. His pillow-soft lips caressed hers with a slow and easy cadence, and his tongue flicked over the inside of her mouth like he was tasting her. It was a heady sensation – she definitely didn’t have nearly enough of a chance to just enjoy kissing him when they’d been together before (which admittedly was because of her own pig-headed stubbornness). She felt like she could get drunk on this. Her lips had the distinct tingly swollen feeling she hadn’t experienced since the hours-long make out sessions of her early teens by the time he pulled back. He didn’t even need words to suggest moving things to the bedroom, just allowing his eyelids to flutter open (were his eyelashes always that long and thick?), his gaze moving from her lips to meet her own eyes. She also didn’t respond verbally, just giving a quick nod, and his lips sought hers again almost immediately. Bonnie felt him lift her like she was made of air, and she hooked her legs over his hips as he carried her through to the bedroom.

They undressed each other unhurriedly. Damon skimmed her dress slowly up her body, kissing her with an intensity that made her toes curl. He was meticulous in giving each newly exposed inch of skin a reverent and worshipful attention that was equal parts wonderful and torturous, devoting several minutes to the crook of her knee, the underside of her breast, the curve of her hip. It was like he was rediscovering and mapping which caresses in which exact spot made her shiver. She was dying to touch him back, but every time she tried he would steer her hand away with his own, squeezing his fingers between hers and pressing it to the mattress: As if telling her _“you’ll get your turn”_. By the time he even got close to somewhere conventionally erogenous, she was breathing hard and quaking under his ministrations, but he was still savouring every second. He didn’t have a shred of hesitancy in exploring her with his tongue considering he’d been inside her a few hours ago, and at first when Bonnie had discerned his intentions, she had been self-conscious, but all trace of hesitancy was forgotten when her back was arching off the bed and she had her hand twisted in his hair so hard her knuckles were turning pale, as Damon took the opportunity to painstakingly remind her how skilled and enthusiastic his tongue could be. His fervour was only amplified by her enjoyment, and she found herself glad that Damon’s bedroom didn’t share walls with another apartment, allowing her the freedom to really let loose and be vocal, which she knew he loved.

Bonnie desperately wanted to come, but the only thing she wanted more was for Damon to be inside her when she did. It was with incredible reluctance that she pulled him away before he could make her lose what was left of her self-restraint. She tasted herself when she kissed him, warm and sweet and slick, and it only made her more eager to make him as revved up and desperate as he had made her. Manoeuvring him onto his back, he gave over the reigns readily. Given his propensity for pleasuring her until she was practically comatose, it was a pleasant surprise that he was equally willing to lie back and let her enjoy touching and tasting his body as well. And _what a body_ – Bonnie had half thought that her memory had idealised Damon somehow, and there was no way he could have been the sculpted perfection she’d remembered, but no: Her recollection hadn’t done him justice at all. He was god-like – sharp lines, lean muscle and warm, buttery soft skin. It was no hardship to spend time rediscovering the delights of his body, especially watching his reactions play out on that fallen angel face. Damon’s face was heartbreakingly beautiful, but when those thick eyelashes fluttered closed over the deep blue pools of his eyes, when sighs and blissful profanities poured from those plump lips, and when a pink flush settled on the apples of his cheeks… there weren’t words. Making him swear was her favourite part, and so when she had him looking thoroughly debauched and his hips subconsciously bucking up against the air in search of friction, she made sure he was expecting a similar unhurried tease when she made her way to his cock, only to swallow him down as deep as she could take him in one smooth motion. The strangled breathy groan of surprise, followed by a hoarse “ _fuckfuckfuckuckfuck_ ” and a jerk of his hips, gave Bonnie an immense sense of pride, as well as being a serious contender for the sexiest thing ever. Over the next few minutes, she enjoyed working him over with her hands and mouth until he was pliant and blissed out. She was definitely enjoying giving as good as she’d got, but the unbelievably hot visual and sounds he was making were making her really feel the absence of friction - especially given that her body was still tingling with anticipation from his ministrations. Shifting her stance slightly, she freed up one hand to slip down between her legs, coating in her slick and sliding over her clit. When her breath caught a little, it prompted Damon to look down, instantly reacting to the sight of her pleasuring herself as she sucked his cock.   
“You’re my wet dream.” He breathed out.

He was at least half right – Bonnie doubted she’d ever been so wet. But while her fingers did the trick at taking the edge off, it was quickly approaching the point where she was losing all ability to concentrate – she needed him inside her, and _soon_ , but she was far from done teasing him yet. Imbued with renewed vigour. he immediately sought her lips and pulled her in for a kiss that was absolutely filthy as she crawled up to straddle him, coming to rest with him diamond-hard beneath her. Bonnie ground down on him, enjoying both the renewed friction and his gasp into her mouth. It was a test of her restraint as much as his when she reached between them, using the head of his cock to stimulate herself without granting him entry. She felt him shiver as his face buried into the crook of her neck, emitting a needy half-whine against her skin as she tested his limits. Knowing he was holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth when the smallest shift could see him buried in her to the hilt was a heady drug, and only added to her stimulation. When he added his fingers to the mix, two of them slipping inside her with less than no resistance to rub her g-spot as his cock still teased at her clit, it went from good to cataclysmic, and it was a monumental effort of willpower to hold back and not just fuck herself to completion on his fingers.

Bonnie held out as long as she could, but the catalyst to her undoing was Damon’s harshly whispered “ _please”_ in the hollow of her neck. He had made her beg for him so many times that she thought nothing of it, but hearing _him_ beg for _her_ was something she’d never thought would happen. That was all it took – Bonnie pulled his fingers from her and slid down over him without a moment’s pause. She sank down slowly, and could’ve sworn neither of them breathed until her hips sat flush over his. It was intense to the point of transcendent: It didn’t feel real. The cadence and position of their passionate recoupling at the door had meant that those thrusts were sharp and shallow. This was the total opposite: He was seated so deep it almost felt difficult to fill her lungs, and when they started to move together, by unspoken agreement it was slow and smouldering. Every tiny movement sparked a new wave of sensation as she rode him, his hips rocking into her in a gentle but powerful gyration as his lips skimmed her neck, her mouth, her breasts, letting out these occasional shuttered breaths over her damp skin that tingled all the way to the bone. He built her little by little: Not only letting her take the lead, but following every hint her body was sending, even if she wasn’t aware she was sending them. Bonnie soon felt a familiar pressure building at her core; squeezing her thighs around him served to both heighten the sensation for her and warn him she was close, and as always he seemed to know exactly what she needed. The arm that wasn’t busy keeping him propped up against her moved down to her ass, pressing her down firmly against her as he ground up, his teeth grazing her neck just hard enough to push her over into a climax that wracked through her whole body.

It was apparent that Damon intended to keep to his promise that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, as he clearly wasn’t done with her just yet. Bonnie was still quivering with aftershocks when he flipped them over without even breaking rhythm, catching her mouth with more of those searing, addictive kisses like he could never get her close enough. He slid his knees under her, effectively pulling her into his lap as he laid over her. His hands now freed up took their opportunity to wander, seemingly sliding over every inch of her skin. He handled her reverently, and at first she thought she had imagined his whispers against her skin, but when she wasn’t too distracted to pay attention… _“You’re so, so beautiful.”_   
_“What did I do to deserve you?”_   
_“God, you feel incredible.”_   
_“I was an idiot to give you up.”_   
_“You make me crazy.”_

The litany of praise and adulation continued to spill from his lips unbidden. Talking dirty would have felt out of place with the achingly romantic sex (though there was a conversation to be had around that at some point, because Bonnie was _dying_ to hear him murmur not-so-sweet nothings while he was fucking her), but this worshipful homily was pitch perfect. Bonnie usually struggled to take a compliment, but this felt different – she literally felt his sincerity. Unable to reciprocate with words, she did so with her body and her lips, her legs clinging to his back and her back arching to lift her hips up with his when he next thrust, chasing that closeness as her hands dragged his lips back to hers. She rolled her hips against his and squeezed, feeling his hips stutter and swallowing the moan that told her he was almost there, his shaking hand slipping between them to ensure she was with him every step of the way. On impulse, she opened her eyes just as her climax hit her, seeking the inexorable ocean blue of his own and sinking under the torrent of his passion as she felt him tense and flood into her.

\---

It was Tuesday morning before Bonnie finally went home. Damon called in sick, and for 3 days they got out of bed only to eat, shower or use the bathroom (well, except for those times when their sexual explorations took them beyond the bedroom - flooding Damon's bathroom floor after a not-so-relaxing bath and being fucked against the glass wall with the city spread out beneath her were definitely among Bonnie's highlights). Walking around dressed in one of Damon's shirts seemed to activate some primal possessive part of his brain, and Bonnie soon learned that was a sure-fire way to end up splayed on the nearest horizontal surface with his head between her legs. But while there was an element of 'honeymoon period' frenzy, Bonnie also looked forward to the quiet moments when, sated and relaxed, they would just talk for hours. She loved the way Damon would stare off into space and draw lazy circles on her with his fingers when the topic was serious, and the satisfying playfulness of his laughter when it wasn't that filled a void in her soul she’d never noticed was there. They talked about family (Damon's uniquely hostile and yet fiercely loyal relationship with his brother, and how much Bonnie missed her grams), friends (Bonnie told him all about Caroline and Elena, and it turned out Bonnie already knew Damon’s ‘inner circle’ – it was hard to form close friendships when you have to hide a major part of your life, so Katherine, Enzo and Klaus were the only friends he considered close), past relationships (or Bonnie’s at least. Damon had none of significance - his momentary obsession with Katherine notwithstanding, he’d stumbled from the casual encounters of his teen years into the military and finally sex work hadn’t been conducive to finding love)… He talked so completely openly with her, not shying away from difficult or personal topics, which meant the world to her, because she knew how difficult it was for him after being so closed off for so long. Climbing into the taxi on Tuesday morning, she felt a stab of jealousy knowing it was because he had work the next day, and yet a sense of pride that he’d had to kick her out the day before because he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her long enough otherwise. It would only be a couple of days before she’d have him all to herself again, and that was enough to put a smile on her face.


	16. Chapter 16

Days turned into weeks, and their relationship blossomed. They spent more time together than they did apart, with Damon spending his days off at Bonnie's place, and Bonnie staying at his on the days he was working. Any one of Bonnie's exes would have lost their shit about rushing things or commitment if she'd have so much as left a toothbrush at their place, but Damon... Not only did she not have to ask, Damon just started rummaging through her drawers one day at her place, matter of factly stating that he was taking a bag of her stuff home with him, " _So you don't have to do the walk of shame twice a week with your panties in your purse. Let me know what shampoo and whatever you use so I can get some. By the way, these?" He lifted up a set of navy blue lingerie that was so skimpy it barely constituted underwear) "Non-negotiable." He smirked, putting them in his bag_.  
Things were perfect.  
Well... Almost perfect.

They were still having sex - a lot of it, and it was only getting better (every time she thought sex didn't get any better, Damon redefined her expectations). But things were different on the days he worked. On those nights he went out on 'house calls', he would come home late, shower, and crawl into bed, moulding tight against her body and planting a kiss on her neck. If she was awake (as she often was, her mind or her body obviously anticipating his return), things might turn heated and he would bring her to a shuddering climax with his fingers or mouth (or on a couple of occasions, some of the toys in his briefcase arsenal). before they fell asleep wrapped up in each other. But on the nights he worked at the club - especially the busy Saturdays - he would return at some ungodly hour of the morning, and climb into bed exhausted, almost asleep before his head hit the pillow.

In reality, Bonnie knew the pang of jealousy and suspicion she felt was irrational. Of course he was exhausted - his job was physically demanding, and even Damon's frankly supernatural refractory period had to have its limits. And it wasn't like she was left wanting or unsatisfied - in fact, struggling to keep up with Damon's almost insatiable need for her was more of an issue (on Damon's days off, she frequently joked about needing to up her cardio). But she couldn't help it - the thought of him with someone else still made her burn, and sometimes that bitterness and envy spilled over.

Bonnie was a rubber band pulled taut. After waking up alone in Damon's apartment, with no sign of him, she'd checked her phone. After a particularly rough Saturday night, he hadn't even had the energy to haul himself home, and had texted her to say he was spending the remainder of the night at Indigo. He'd looked half dead when he finally dragged himself through the door at about midday, and knowing he'd be heading out again soon to start his day of house calls, she made him a sandwich (the extent of her culinary skills) and curled up on the sofa with him wordlessly to watch a movie. She missed the intimacy they usually had, but it was better than no time with him at all.

She'd been lying awake when he got home, waiting with no small amount of anticipation while he showered and got ready for bed. Sleeping alone, and then barely having a couple of hours with him earlier had left her feeling lonely, and now she just wanted to feel connected with him again. She wasn’t horny at all – it was late, and she just wanted to sleep - but she had this feeling like she _needed_ to have sex with him; to reclaim him, almost. When he finally slid into the sheets behind her, she didn’t even feign drowsiness, leaning straight in and kissing him with fervour _._ He echoed her movements, and she just let herself enjoy kissing him for a while.

Something about it felt… mechanical. He was doing all the right things, but the enthusiasm just wasn’t there, and if that wasn’t disheartening enough, then the way he artfully moved away when she tried to touch him in response definitely was. When his lips started to move down her body, she lost her cool.

“Okay no.” She jerked back, and he pulled away, seeking the source of her disappointment. “You know what? Just forget it.”   
“What?” He snapped.   
“I don’t want your tongue, and I don’t want your fingers. I want _you_.” She laid back and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “Do you know how much it hurts to know you’re just rushing through getting me off as quick as possible so you can roll over and pass out?”   
Damon sat upright.   
“You know what? Probably about as much as when I’m feeling seriously used up and spit out because I’ve had 9 hour long sex sessions in 2 days, and I’m trying to make sure you get what you need and that _still_ isn’t enough for you.”   
”I don’t need to hear about all the people you’re fucking who aren’t me.”   
”That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Damon looked like everything just clicked for him. “Of course, this has nothing to do with you being unsatisfied. I bet you don’t even really want to be doing this, do you?” Bonnie looked away. “We talked about this. I told you from the go that I needed you to be okay with my job.”   
“I thought I would be. But I’m not. And I know it’s selfish, and it’s not like you’ve given me a reason not to trust you-“  
”Then _trust me_. It’s not like I’m going out and screwing around recreationally – it’s _my job._ ”   
“ _I_ was your job. Or did you forget that?”   
Even in the dim light, she saw Damon’s eyes darken angrily.   
“I’m too tired for this conversation. If you honestly believe that our genderbent _Pretty Woman_ remake is something that happened just because of my job, and there is nothing exceptional between us, then maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

Bonnie’s eyes brimmed with tears. She felt like she needed reassurance, and what she was getting was rejection. She threw back her covers and grabbed her clothes off the chair.   
“Bonnie…” She ignored his placating voice and dressed hurriedly. “Bonnie please. It’s late. Just come back to bed and we’ll talk about this in the morning. Bonnie?”   
She barely remembered to pick up her purse before slamming the door, unable to stop a tear tracking its way down her face as she headed for the taxi rank.

\---

Bonnie had regretted her walkout almost immediately. Her logical brain knew that Damon was right – they might have met through his job, but their relationship was so, so much more than that - but the thought of another woman’s hands on him still made her flare with jealousy. Even though she was desperate to talk to him and smooth things over, she knew he would probably be mad at her (after all, she’d said his job wouldn’t be a problem), and she wanted to give him some space. However, 2 days later, she still hadn’t heard anything from him, and she was starting to worry that she wouldn’t. Which is how she found herself staring at her phone on Tuesday evening, willing it to buzz.

It did one better, startling her when it rang.   
“Hi.”   
“I don’t wanna fight anymore. It sucks.”   
He took the words right out of her mouth.   
“Me neither.” Bonnie relaxed back against the couch – she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed his voice. “I’m fully aware it’s not fair, and I said I was okay with your job. But I’m not.” He didn’t say anything. “I don’t expect you to give up your job, but I just… I don’t know where to go from here.” She sighed. “I miss you.”   
“I had an idea, but I didn’t know if you’d be open to it.”   
“If it means I get to keep you without feeling like this, I’m all ears.”   
“I’m thinking the problem is that you have this kind of warped idea of what I do. You see it through this romanticised filter because of how we were together, and it’s not like that at all.” He took in a breath – obviously nervous about how she’d take his suggestion. “So I want you to meet one of my regulars.”   
He was right to be nervous. The thought made Bonnie want to claw at her own skin.   
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
”You don’t know enough about what my job looks like on a day-to-day basis, and your mind is filling in the blanks with the only thing you know – which is us – or some worst case scenario.” He was silent for a moment. “This is obviously make or break, so don’t you think you owe it to both of us to make an informed decision?”

\---

The silence in the cab was cold and unyielding, and the tension was palpable. Bonnie's stomach was churning as she steeled herself for the evening that lay ahead of her.  
"Does she know your real name?" Bonnie's voice shattered the quiet.  
"Julie knows me as Dominic." Bonnie's teeth clenched - she didn't want to know her name. She didn't want to know anything. "But I've known her long enough to know she isn't going to go all psycho stalker if she finds out my real one, so don't sweat if you slip up on the name."  
"How long exactly?"  
"Four years, I think? I see her roughly every couple weeks. Sometimes more, sometimes less."  
Bonnie felt sick as she did the math in her head. An hour every fortnight for four years... He'd spent literally a hundred hours between this woman's legs.  
"Do I want to know how you convinced her to do this?"  
"I did offer to comp her next couple of appointments, but she refused."  
Suspicion flared in Bonnie's mind.  
"Why?"  
"You'll have to ask her." He retorted, before addressing the driver. "Here is fine, thanks."

The house was almost palatial in its grandeur. Bonnie knew the person would be wealthy - all of Indigo's clientele were, after all - but she hadn't pictured this. This was the kind of house she'd walk past as a kid and daydream about the princess who lived there. Damon unfastened the gate and closed it behind them, shoes clicking on the paved path through the immaculate front garden to the door. He paused before ringing the doorbell.  
"Last chance if you wanna back out."  
Every instinct in her gut was telling her to flee. But she wasn't prepared to give up on their relationship without a fight, and if this was what it took?  
She shook her head. Damon rang the bell.

Bonnie hadn't known what to expect. She'd conjured her own images of what the woman - Julie - might look like, all of them exaggerated in beauty or physical perfection. She'd also entertained the notion that Damon might have chosen his least attractive client to try and assuage Bonnie's fears. But Julie was... Normal. The very fine lines starting to emerge at the edge of her eyes told Bonnie she was a little older - late thirties, maybe? But she was pretty, and there was a warmth and kindness to her eyes and her smile that lit up her face.  
"That gardener of yours is slacking, again. I can see at least 3 things I'm almost positive are weeds." Damon said by way of a 'hello'.  
Her flirty chuckle said she was used to Damon's unorthodox greetings, and it burned Bonnie’s ears.  
"Hi, Dominic."  
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was an innocent kiss ‘hello’- one you might give to an old friend or distant family member rather than a lover - but it still made Bonnie want to turn and look away.  
"And you must be Bonnie. Wow, he did good, you're gorgeous." Bonnie smiled tightly at the compliment. "I'm Julie. It's great to meet you. Come on in."  
  
For an old style building, it was surprisingly spacious and minimalist inside: These kinds of places were normally full of narrow hallways and packed to the brim with antique furniture, but Bonnie fancied could put her arms out and spin without hitting something.  
"Can I get you something to drink, Bonnie?"  
"Um, water would be great thanks." Realistically, she wanted to nail a bottle of tequila.  
"If you're half as nervous as I'd be if I were you, I'd definitely want something stronger."  
Her smile was kind and in spite of how she was feeling, Bonnie couldn't help but return it.  
"Bourbon?" She suggested  
"You sure you didn't have her cooked up in a factory someplace?" Julie asked Damon, and he held his hands up in mock innocence.  
The older woman poured her a drink from a decanter on the table, but it was only when she handed her the drink that Bonnie clocked the wedding ring on Julie's finger.  
  
A million thoughts and questions flooded Bonnie's mind. She was very young to be widowed. She could be divorced, but then most women didn't keep wearing their rings. So was she cheating? Would her husband come home in the middle of their dinner? Would she be expected to lie about how they knew one another? Bonnie had _not_ signed on for that. She had just opened her mouth to express her discomfort with the situation when...  
"Did I hear our guests arrive?" A male voice sounded from an adjacent room. She expected to hear it accompanied by footsteps, but instead...  
_Oh. That explains the expansive space._  
They'd need it to manoeuvre the wheelchair.  
"Neil, this is Bonnie. Bonnie, this is my husband Neil."  
He was around Julie's age - a light sprinkling of grey in his brown hair, and soulful brown eyes that reminded her of Enzo.  
"Nice to meet you." He said.  
"Hey Neil.” If Damon was surprised the guy was here, he didn’t sound it. “How's the book coming along?"  
"Writers block is a way of life, and I'm committed to that." He deadpanned. _Wait, they know each other?_  
"I'm gonna go plate up dinner. Dominic - could you give me a hand while Neil shows Bonnie to the dining room?"  
"Sure thing. Let me guess, something delicious from that Moroccan place a couple blocks away you were gonna try and pass off as your own cooking?"  
"It's lamb tagine, and don't say another word." Julie chided.  
"Okay, can I pay you back for this by teaching you to cook something for yourself, at least?"  
"Are you kidding? Nakhat Ghariba will go under without our patronage."  
As they continued their friendly bickering through to the kitchen, Bonnie was still trying to process.  
"You look terrified." Neil said pointedly. He had that same warmth about his features that Julie had.  
"Sorry, it's just..."  
"Now what you expected?" He finished for her.  
"Not exactly."  
"Come on. Dining room's this way. Let's eat, then we can talk."

Bonnie smiled politely as Damon and Julie brought out the (frankly delicious smelling) meal. There was so much Bonnie didn't understand, but she didn't know how to ask. ‘ _So, how does your husband feel about you fucking my boyfriend?’_ didn't exactly slide easily into dinner conversation. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long before Julie bridged the gap.  
"So, I know the curiosity must be eating at you. What do you want to know?" Bonnie's hesitation must have shown. "Nothing is off limits - I'm not the shy and retiring type, and I promise I won't take offence."  
That eased Bonnie's nerves a little, but she still started off easy.  
"Why did you agree to do this?"  
"Dominic has been in my life for a long time, and I was happy to hear he was seeing someone special. When he explained that you were having doubts about... Let's call it his work/life separation, I was happy to help in whatever way I could. And If I'm honest, I was curious to meet you."  
"Julie practically squealed with delight when I told her I was dating you." Damon interjected. "She was convinced I was gonna die alone in some bachelor pad and it'd take a week before the neighbours noticed the smell."  
Julie made a sound of protest, but didn't deny it.

"So, what made you go looking for an escort?"  
"Technically _I_ didn't. Honey?" Julie looked over at Neil.  
"Yeah, I got this." He replied before turning to Bonnie. "A few years ago, I was driving back from an out of town meeting with my publisher when a truck t-boned my car. I was lucky to survive, but my legs? Not so much. My spine was seriously fucked up. Everything from the waist down is pretty much dead. They told me I'd never walk again, but left me to figure out all the other things I'd never do. Like make love to my wife." Julie's hand closed over his, and for an awful second Bonnie thought she might cry. "Jools is a tactile person. Physical intimacy has always meant a lot to her, and I couldn't stand the idea of her barely into her thirties, staring down a barrel of a life of celibacy because of me. She wouldn't even talk to me about opening up our marriage, and the insurance payout wasn't gonna buy me new legs, so..."  
"You ambushed me." Julie finished for him  
"It was not an ambush." He said defensively.  
"I was there - it definitely was." Damon chimed in on Julie’s side.  
"I was completely blindsided and I yelled at him for hours." Julie continued.   
"There was a lot of crying. I had literally no idea what to do." Damon added.  
"But we talked about it, and it made a lot of sense. I didn’t want an open marriage, because I made a vow to be faithful, but this… it’s transactional. Neil doesn’t have to worry about Dominic and I becoming more than we are, and I don’t have to feel guilty for getting something I need. Dominic came back a week later, and there was a lot of doubt and crying those first few sessions, but the rest is history, I guess."  
"Well, history and every other Sunday." Damon quipped, and Bonnie actually smiled a little when Julie kicked him under the table.

"So you chose him _for_ her?" She asked Neil, and he nodded. "Why?"  
"If money is no object, and the love of your life needs a car, do you buy her the Ford or the Lamborghini?"  
"I'm stealing that for my website bio." Damon quipped.  
"The worrying thing is, I absolutely know you would." He retorted.  
It was amazing how comfortable they were with one another, considering the circumstances.   
“Do you talk to him about what you and Dominic do together?” She asked Julie.   
“Honestly, there’s not much to tell – I’m probably the most vanilla hour of Dominic’s week. If you wanted to hear depraved tales of your boy’s misdeeds, you came to the wrong house.” She smiled. “But we don’t have any secrets, and he’s under no illusions.”   
Bonnie turned to Neil.   
“Are you… I mean do you ever…Get involved?”   
He laughed, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.   
“No. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for what Dominic does for Jools, but I think it’d be too difficult for me to be there.” He squeezed Julie’s hand. “Maybe someday.”   
It dawned on Bonnie then: Neil trusted Julie implicitly…   
The way she should be trusting Damon.

Bonnie asked a few more niggling questions, but suffice it to say, she got it. Bonnie hadn’t really considered before that Damon’s job might be important, but evidently to Julie and Neil it was: They needed this.   
"I'm gonna go make myself useful and wash some dishes." Damon said as the conversation started to lighten up.  
"Please, Dominic. You don't have to do that." Julie protested.  
"Least I can do. I'd offer to put on a saucy French maid outfit, but the missus might have something to say about that." He added conspiratorially, throwing Bonnie a wink which made her roll her eyes. The flirtatious comment was clearly designed to test her boundaries, but it wasn’t any more pointed than he would be with a friend – that’s just how Damon was with people, and to Bonnie's surprise, she didn't feel a hint of jealousy or discomfort about him being like that with someone else. In fact, it would have felt kind of stiff and awkward if he was any different. As he went into the kitchen, Julie topped up Bonnie’s wine glass.   
“Can _I_ ask _you_ something?”   
“Considering how amazingly open you guys have been with me, I’d say you’ve earned the right.”   
“Did you really turn him down at first?” Bonnie laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just he told me you totally shut him down, and I can’t imagine anyone saying no to him.”   
“I did.” She nodded.   
“Were you suffering from temporary insanity or blindness?” Neil burst out laughing at Julie’s exasperation.   
“I mean obviously I thought he was hot. But he was just so _arrogant_.”   
“And you were the most stubborn woman I’d ever met.” Damon yelled from the kitchen.   
“You guys are sickeningly adorable. I hope you know that.” Neil threw in.   
They laughed and talked for a while longer, and by the time the evening wrapped up, Bonnie had a whole new perspective. They weren’t just Damon’s clients: They were _people_. Amazing, kind, lovely people. And it was more than apparent that they were ridiculously in love with one another, and to think she’d thought of Julie as a threat to her relationship earlier was laughable. When it came time to leave, she felt a pang of sadness, and hugging both Julie and Neil goodbye felt right. Moreover, when Damon kissed Julie’s cheek and told her he would see her next week, Bonnie didn’t feel a hint of jealousy.

“I get it now.” They were halfway down the path when she said it, and the relief on his face was palpable. “And if you ever stop taking care of that precious couple I’m going to hurt you.”   
He laughed, and she echoed it with a smile.   
“I’m gonna level with you. Not every client is like Julie. Sometimes it is exactly as black and white as you think it is: I’m the dirty little secret they keep from their husbands or their weekly indulgence, or sometimes an outlet for something ‘out there’, like crazy art lady. But the other times…it’s different. I have a client who’s a cancer survivor. Chemo pretty much nuked her libido and the surgery made her hate her body, so she’s learning how to love herself again as her sex drive comes back. There’s a guy I see who hasn’t come out of the closet yet – he’s just coming to terms with being gay and figuring out what he likes and what he doesn’t, and with me he gets to do that with no pressure, risks, or expectations. I’ve worked with middle-aged virgins, recovering alcoholics who’ve never had sex sober, survivors of sexual abuse… You name it.” He sighed. “I like my job, and it’s not because I’m sex crazed or because I want a free pass to sleep with other people. I’m good at something, and that something helps people, in whatever small stupid way. I might not be saving people in the ER or whatever like my brother hopes to someday, but it has value. Does that make sense?”   
“Yeah. It does.”   
“And what happened with you will _not_ happen with anyone else, because I already found you.”   
Bonnie’s eyes welled up with emotion, because she believed him.

That night was the first time she told him she loved him – she’d felt it for a while, but hadn’t felt safe saying it out loud – like somehow keeping it locked up inside would protect her heart. When he said it back, he didn’t just say it once: He said it over and over like a mantra - joyfully, meaningfully, reverently. Against her lips, looking to her eyes, and against her skin – like they were the only two people in the world.


	17. Chapter 17

Meeting Julie and Neil had changed everything about how Bonnie viewed Damon's job. Where before she was afraid of the details, she now found herself seeking them - curious about a part of Damon's life she had so vehemently shut out. Laying in Damon's arms in the calming quiet that followed their passion, Bonnie had asked him to tell her about his other clients. He went through his regulars one by one - listing divorcees, workaholics with no time for relationships, bored housewives, shameful kinks, as well as some of the more sympathetic stories he'd hinted at last night.  
"...And of course, you know all about Julie. I think that's most of them."  
"There are so many. No wonder you're exhausted. _I'm_ exhausted just from you talking about them."  
He chuckled. "It's not that bad. Some I see every week, but others are once a month. There are a few I've been seeing for years, but only every few months when they pass through town."  
"Do you have favourites?"  
He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before answering. The fact she felt secure enough to ask that question and not fear the answer spoke volumes about how much her outlook had changed.  
"Julie's gotta be one of them. She is one of the most genuine people I've ever met, what she wants from me is uncomplicated, and I don't have to worry about sneaking around a husband. Other than her... Probably Ric?"  
That caught Bonnie's attention… for a couple of reasons.  
"I don't remember you mentioning someone called Ric."  
She was careful not to assume a gender, but it definitely sounded like a guy's name.  
"I wouldn't class him as a regular. He heads up a faculty at one of the Ivy League colleges, swings through here maybe every 3 months. Works hard, _definitely_ plays harder." He clocked her expression. "What?"  
"Nothing, I'm just surprised you'd pick a male client, that's all."  
He laughed softly.  
"Setting aside the fact that I'm pretty sure we're drinking buddies in some alternate universe, if anyone has ever made me question my otherwise cast iron fix on my sexuality, it's Ric."  
"Really?"  
She'd known that he took male clients: They'd joked about it before, but he'd never talked about it in any detail. Bonnie would be lying if she said the thought of a guy's hands on Damon hadn't gotten her hot and bothered before, but the idea of him legitimately enjoying it was something else entirely. 

"First time I met him I'd been with a few guys - Thought I knew the drill. Knew instantly I wasn't in Kansas anymore when instead of declaring himself a top or a bottom, he _flips a coin_. Cut to barely 20 minutes in to an hour long appointment and I'm white-knuckle gripping the bedsheets, doing long division in my head, desperately trying not to come while he grinds my prostate like a pepper mill. Longest hour of my life."  
"Wow." Bonnie didn't know what else to say.  
"You know considering you looked like you wanted to scoop Julie's eyeballs out with a spoon less than 24 hours ago, you're taking this suspiciously well."  
"Well, a lot's changed since then." He didn't look convinced - She hated the way he always knew when there was something she was holding back. "And honestly, I kind of like the idea of you with another guy."  
  
He looked contemplative for a second.  
"I've shown you one side of what I do. How would you feel about seeing another side?"  
Bonnie couldn’t hide her interest.  
"What side?"  
"The fun side." She waited for him to elaborate. "Feel free to say no, but I never would have suggested this if I didn't think you could handle it."  
"Well that's ominous."  
"Indigo hosts parties for their more adventurous and wealthy clientele. Invitation only, very exclusive. Nothing seriously 'out there' - we're not a fetish club - but for those who like to explore their options - try different partners, multiple partners, being watched, experiment with sexuality..."   
"So it’s an orgy?" Bonnie ventured  
"Kind of?” He seemed to change his mind. “Well, not really. A little less 'keys in the bowl', a little more 'facilitating experimentation'. It's not some writhing mass of bodies where you're left wondering whose hand that was on your ass. And there’s no pressure or obligations - some people just observe, others enjoy getting a little taste of everything on the menu.” He explained. “They have one of these soirees every season - I’m scheduled to work the winter one, which is in a couple weeks. How would you feel about coming along?” Bonnie bit her lip. Considering how far her outlook had shifted in such a short space of time already, this felt like a big step, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued. “If you get there and you find it’s not for you, you can leave whenever you want. But I’ll keep an eye on you when I’m not otherwise occupied, and I’m pretty sure Katherine’s rota’d as well, so you’ll know at least one other person.” He was clearly anxious for her answer. “So, what do you think?”

Bonnie thought hard. She didn’t want to push herself too far, but she saw it for the opportunity it was. Bracing herself, she conjured in her mind what would’ve been her worst nightmare a few hours ago, and something that was a real possibility she’d see if she did go: Damon completely losing himself in passion with a client. She deliberately envisioned the girl as different to her as she could get – Bonnie was mocha-skinned, petite, and pear-shaped, so she pictured a fair, long-legged, slender blonde. In her mind, the woman was nubile, sensual, and adventurous; Damon’s eyes were blown black with lust, his muscles glistening with sweat, and as he was lost in his mystery woman’s supple body, he cast his eyes towards where she was watching, looked right as her, and didn’t stop – didn’t so much as hesitate. Bonnie braced herself for the nausea, the jealousy… and was surprised when it didn’t come.   
If anything, she _liked it_.

Of course fantasy and reality weren’t the same thing, and when it came down to it, seeing it in person would naturally be different. But Bonnie wasn’t afraid.   
“I think you need to take me underwear shopping if we’re going to a party.” She said, a naughty smile spreading on her face.


	18. Chapter 18

On Damon and Katherine’s recommendation, Bonnie timed her arrival for when the party should be in full swing. She hadn’t physically been back into Indigo since she’d first met Damon, and now she saw the place in a different light. On that first night, through prudish eyes, she’d seen all its lavish trappings as attempt to disguise the sordid nature of what was done there, but in reality everything about the place was exquisitely appointed. It was especially apparent tonight, as Indigo evidently went all out with decorations for its events: The entire club was decked out with furs, erotic ice sculptures, there was even a fireplace Bonnie hadn’t noticed before with a fire crackling away that made Bonnie hope Enzo hadn’t borrowed another of Damon’s shirts.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous – especially checking her outer layers of clothing in at the cloakroom. It wasn’t a matter of feeling self conscious: She knew she was looking good in her royal blue satin bra and panty set (which in the end Katherine had helped her pick out, as Damon had asked her to surprise him). Her nerves weren’t rooted in how she would feel watching Damon with someone else either – Bonnie was confident she’d slain that particular demon. Instead, she was nervous about how she’d feel about the experience as a whole: A part of her was obviously concerned she wouldn’t enjoy it – that she’d feel uncomfortable or awkward… but something in the deeper, darker recesses of her curiosity was a little scared she might enjoy it _too_ much. She wasn’t sure she could put her anxiety into words, but there was a sensual simplicity to what she and Damon had together, and she didn’t want broadening her horizons to somehow taint that. She also didn’t want the lines between his professional life and their relationship to blur. And yet in spite of her nerves, she was definitely excited about what tonight might bring.

With the exception of the revealing dress code and the themed décor, the main lounge at Indigo didn’t look like the site of an orgy: Bonnie wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected, but it was definitely something more scandalous – it would seem that, at least in the initial hours of the party, the main lounge was a venue for flirtatious touches and arranging liaisons, not somewhere for them to take place. Bonnie cast her eye around the room – looking for a familiar face (or, failing that, the black underwear that identified the employees of Indigo).

“Tyler, get Miss Bennett a bourbon on the rocks. She looks like she needs to loosen up.” Bonnie smiled at Katherine’s familiar breathy drawl and turned to face its source. With her swathes of exposed honey-coloured skin, bouncy cascading curls, and stunning physique, Katherine looked more gorgeous than ever - time was, Bonnie would have felt mousy and dull next to her, but she was confident enough now to hold her own. She also now knew her well enough not to be shocked when Katherine greeted her with an open-mouthed kiss, her body pressed in far closer than could be considered merely friendly, attracting the attention of a number of onlookers from the booths around the room. “Your boy toy is going to nut when he sees you.”   
Bonnie rolled her eyes at the crude complement as Katherine swiped her thumb across her lips, no doubt removing the lipstick she’d smudged.   
“It’s good to see you too, Katherine.” And it really was – Katherine might be a bit much, but in her own unique way, she meant well. “Is he around?”   
“He’s off spray painting some Stepford Wife’s cervix.” Bonnie sputtered her newly delivered drink at the vulgarity. “Metaphorically speaking, of course – rubbers are mandatory tonight. Still, she looked like she’d be easily impressed so he shouldn’t be long. Anyway, come have a drink with me – I’m trying to avoid one of my admirers who looks like the type to jackhammer.”

They took a seat at one of the empty booths, and Bonnie jumped inadvertently when she felt Katherine’s hand settle on her thigh. Katherine chuckled darkly.   
“Oh sweetie, if you don’t lose those ‘first rodeo’ jitters, then that bourbon’ll be the hardest thing you get in you tonight.”   
Bonnie closed her eyes and let out a small breath of a laugh.   
“Sorry, I just – I still kind of don’t know what to expect, y’know? “Will people just touch me like that without asking?”   
“Only if they want me to break their arm.” Katherine smiled angelically. “Its open season on me, though – I’m on the clock. A few of the pro’s might give a flirty little brush of skin to gauge interest, but if anyone gets properly handsy without consent-“ She made a throat-cutting gesture that Bonnie found oddly reassuring.   
“So, I take it the magic happens in the private rooms?” Bonnie cast her eyes to the hallway that led to the back of the club.   
“If by ‘magic’ you mean ‘sweaty naked stuff’ then yeah. There are signs on the doors. Some rooms are private – not many though, because who comes to a party like this for privacy? - some are ‘look, don’t touch’, and some very much encourage audience participation.” Katherine’s expression turned devilish. “If you want, we can have a couple of drinks and then I can give you the tour.”   
“That would be great.” Bonnie was relieved to have someone she knew at least a little to hold her hand until she got used to things.

They chatted for a while, and if Bonnie was honest she probably nursed her drink longer than she normally would. Her curiosity was just starting to get the better of her when a pair of hands on her shoulders took her by surprise.   
“I was starting to worry you’d changed your mind.” Damon’s familiar drawl at her ear had her leaning in to that touch as it slid down her arms as he leaned in to kiss her neck in a possessive ‘hello’ that heated her blood.   
“Hi.” The smell of Indigo’s signature shower gel left her in no doubt that he’d just been with someone, but he was with her now, and she would make the most of it.   
“How’re you doing?”   
”Honestly? Nervous, but better now you’re here.” She looked up at him and wondered if that flutter in her stomach when she looked at him would ever stop happening, and hoped it wouldn’t. “You?”   
“Pumped so full of Viagra even my neck is feeling stiff.” Bonnie laughed. “You had a chance to look around yet?”   
“We were just about to. Can you join us for a while?”   
Before Damon could respond, a slightly rough male voice chimed in.   
“Sorry to interrupt, ladies.” The voice belonged to a tall, well-built guy with sandy brown hair and soulful hazel eyes. He looked like he was a little older than Damon – early to mid thirties at a guess – but with a cheeky, roguish charm that was youthful. “Dominic, you ready?”   
He was so handsome that Bonnie was a little surprised when she clocked the (accursedly not form-fitting) white underwear that marked him as a client. Then it clicked:   
A client.   
Who was clearly waiting for Damon.   
She swallowed thickly as her mind went a mile a minute picturing Damon and this (very attractive) guy together, and suddenly exploring her voyeuristic side was feeling a lot more appealing.   
“Duty calls.” Damon said apologetically with a sultry wink at Bonnie, before turning to the guy, sliding his arm around him as he pulled him away towards the rooms.   
“I wonder if he flipped the coin already.” Katherine said idly as she took a sip of her drink.   
“Flipped the-?” Bonnie remembered something. “Wait, was that _Ric_?!”   
Katherine gave a knowing smile. “So, Damon told you about his man crush. Interesting.”   
Bonnie took that as a ‘yes’, and suddenly her burgeoning curiosity evolved into something much more potent. She turned her head so quick she almost gave herself whiplash as she watched Damon’s arm slide off around him and pull him into the room with a passionate kiss.   
“I want to watch them.” Bonnie blurted.   
“Finally, the wallflower starts to bloom.” Katherine smirked. “Let’s take a walk around – trust me, you’re not missing much watching them prep, and there’s nothing like a little anticipation to turn up the heat.”   
Bonnie bit her lip as she looked wistfully towards the door her lover had half-dragged his companion through a few moments ago, but for better or worse she trusted Katherine to steer her right tonight – this was her playground, after all.

The change in atmosphere from ‘sexy-but-sociable’ to ‘heady with arousal’ was palpable as they entered the first room, even though what was going on was a little vanilla – just a straight couple enjoying one another’s bodies, but in hindsight Bonnie was glad it had been: The fact everything had that element of familiarity helped acclimatise her to not feeling like an intruder on a private moment. There were a few other voyeurs besides her and Katherine (who was doing her best not to look visibly bored): Some just enjoying the visual and atmosphere, a few individuals touching themselves, and one couple who were clearly close to needing a room of their own. It took a while before she was comfortable looking - _really_ looking - at the couple, especially when she was so anxious to get to that room where Damon and Ric had gone, but after a while, she felt herself relaxing into it. And then enjoying it. Warmth bloomed under her skin as she took in the sounds of their passion, the rhythm of their movements, the intensity between them. When the woman looked out at the room, her eyes caught Bonnie’s for a moment, and there was a hint of an approving smirk before her attention was drawn back to her partner by his hand at her clit. The moan that escaped her before she broke eye contact made that warm feeling at Bonnie’s core tighten into fully fledged arousal.   
“This was a good start to whet the appetite, but I think you’re ready for more.” Katherine’s warm voice teased at her ear. “Let’s go see what’s behind door number two.”   
Reluctant as she was to leave when her appetite was just whetted, she was eager to move on – one step closer to Damon and Ric.

The next room was definitely a step up in terms of adventure. The four people on the decadently-sized bed – two men and two women – were so involved with one another, they were almost ignorant of the relatively sizeable crowd gathered to watch them as they writhed together: One of the men was going down on one of the women, while the other was straddling her face and fucking into her mouth. The other woman looked to have recently come, and was laid off to one side, touching herself gently. Bonnie was intrigued to see that the dental dam and condom didn’t seem to have any impact on their enjoyment. Just like the first room, some of the voyeurs were more involved than others, but the big difference was that touching was allowed in here. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement about what level of touching was appropriate. Some of those who chose to touch simply ran their hands over the sweat-slicked flesh for their own appreciation (although it did evoke a positive reaction in the person touched as well), but others became more involved. One particularly confident voyeur slid his hand between the legs of the guy who was eating the girl out (pausing to give him a moment to object). When the guy let out a moan of assent and shifted his hips to grant better access, the voyeur became an unofficial fifth participant. Had she gone in this room straight off, it might have been too much for her, but with the arousal simmering from the first room, it was scintillating.

It took Katherine to remind her that this room was a stop along the road, not the destination. It was difficult to tear her eyes away, especially when things were so close to reaching their crescendo with the foursome, but all disinclination evaporated when she discerned that Katherine had evidently decided enough time had passed for them to head into _that_ door. She noted the ‘no touching’ symbol displayed on this room. She hadn’t indulged in that in the last room, but knowing Damon – _her_ Damon – would be right in front of her and she was unable to touch? Bonnie wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

The smell of sex was as thick and heady here as it was in every other room, but there was a familiarity here – her body must be hard-wired to respond to Damon’s pheromones by now, as she felt her arousal flare long before he came into view. But there was something else, too: The smell of him _and_ _someone else_ meant her enhanced stimulation warred with something primal in herself: Something jealous and prideful that sought to reclaim him as her own. And the combination was… not entirely unpleasant. It warmed her blood, and she hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet. The next thing she noticed was the sounds: She knew first-hand how vocal Damon could be during sex (his sounds were just as erotic as his body) but with her, he had never sounded quite like this: So needy and breathless he was almost mewling. She _felt_ that sound inside her, and sought the cause.

In spite of everything, the sight that greeted Bonnie stole her breath: Damon, leaned forwards on his elbows and knees with Ric kneeling behind him, thrusting into him while Damon pushed back against him. The position and circumstance itself wasn’t surprising – logically there was a 50/50 chance that Damon would be the one bottoming, and although something in her mind had automatically assumed he would top, she wasn’t shocked to see the opposite. No, the thing that shocked her was his expression, his fervour. He had told her that he enjoyed sex with Ric, but hearing him say it and seeing the evidence of his enjoyment play out on his face and his body weren’t the same thing. It wasn’t that it was somehow ‘more’ or ‘better’ than what the two of them had together – that wasn’t a concern she had - but it was definitely _different_ ; a heady mix of submission and power. It was no secret that Damon loved to give pleasure, so it should have been obvious he would top from the bottom. She scrutinised his face, noting the flush in his cheeks, the way his eyes scrunched and he bit his lip. His body… She had almost never appreciated it more. She could see the strength and power in his movements as much (if not more) than in his partners – in the way he pressed back into Ric’s thrusts as they speared him open, and if his enthusiasm and his face wasn’t enough evidence of his enjoyment, the thick, proud erection that bobbed beneath him certainly was. Bonnie was enrapt: It was sensual and forbidden… And it was probably the hottest thing she’d ever seen. She could feel how wet she was, the moisture palpable against her thighs, and she bit her lip as her insides ached to be filled. She jerked in surprise when she felt slender fingers on the bared skin at her hip – Katherine’s fingers. Bonnie reluctantly turned away from the delectable scene in front of her to raise an eyebrow back at Katherine stood behind her. Katherine’s expression was unapologetic – there was nothing accidental about this touch.   
“Relax.” She whispered in her ear. “Just keeping you warm for him.“

Bonnie was unsure at first when Katherine’s fingers dipped below the waistband of her panties – worried this was crossing a line. However, looking back over towards the bed, she didn’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the slickness between her legs. Not when Damon’s eyes had opened, ice blue rings barely visible around unfocussed pupils blown black with lust…   
And just as Katherine’s fingers teased their way to her clit, he looked _right_ at her.   
She couldn’t have helped her bone-deep shudder if her life had depended on it. His gaze burned hot like a brand on her skin, hungry and raw as he watched her watching him. When his eyes settled on Katherine’s hand before flicking back to hers, his expression coloured with the same mix of jealous desire and unfettered arousal that Bonnie felt in response to Ric’s possessive hand on his hip. There was an exchange between them in those charged moments that transcended physical touch, and it was a feeling she couldn’t have explained if she had tried. They shared that intimacy for a while, conveying their mutual want and communicating their pleasure through nothing more than locked eyes and a mutual cadence of breath. Long enough, evidently, that Ric noticed his partner’s wandering gaze, as a shift of his hip before the next thrust had Damon’s eyes fluttering closed, half-rolled back into his skull as they finally tore from Bonnie’s own. His grip on the mattress tightened and a litany of curses spewed from his lips, and his reaction was so feral and euphoric that she would have challenged anyone not to have been affected by it. She thought back to that first encounter with him, in a room much like this one, where she had been an observer to Damon’s pleasure, and this was exactly like that, only somehow more.

Ric was a good looking guy, and he had a great body; if his partner were anyone else he would have had her undivided attention, but predictably Damon was a scene stealer, and she had never found him more attractive than she did right now. Ric seemed to be hitting that magic angle harder and more frequently now, and it was evident that it was a conscious choice – not wanting to overstimulate him early on, but now she was pretty sure Ric was close to coming, so he wanted Damon to feel it. Hell, she was ten feet away and even _she_ was feeling it, so impossibly deeper inside her than Katherine’s fingers ever ventured. So deep it took her breath away and pounding in time with her heart. Damon’s eyes fluttered open and she watched him struggling to pull his focus away from whatever magic Ric was working inside him as he sought her in the crowd – like his pleasure would be complete if only he could look at her, and when his lust-blown and fucked-out eyes landed on her again, it hit her like a mack truck and she came on Katherine’s talented fingers.

When the world came rushing back, she realised that she had missed the ‘big finish’. Ric and Damon’s enthusiastic motion had turned to heaving chests and still hips, and most of the audience was dispersing – either done for the evening or seeking a room of their own. Damon let out a soft whine as Ric held the base of the condom in place and pulled out delicately. Bonnie noticed that Damon was still rock hard and weeping – he hadn’t come, and she had a feeling that fact had a direct correlation with the amount of sleep she would, or more accurately wouldn’t, be getting tonight. As Damon was wrapping up with Ric, his eyes flicked to her, and he gave her a subtle sign with his hand that said ‘give me a minute’). She nodded back, and the only other thing he did was raise an eyebrow at Katherine, who just shrugged and left the room. He headed for the shower room (the debauched look and slight limp looked so good on him), and Bonnie leaned against the wall, blissed out and waiting for him. So blissed out, in fact, that she didn’t notice the approach of a newly-familiar figure.

“Hey.” Ric’s voice startled her out of her reverie. He had dressed, and was just pulling his shirt over his head when he got to her, and she noticed the rest of the observers had now left. “I noticed you watching. You, uh, enjoy the show?”   
“I did. Not as much as you, maybe.”   
“If you weren’t looking at me, just say so: My ego can take it.” Bonnie smiled. “I’m Ric, by the way.”

  
“Bonnie.”

  
“I haven’t seen you around here before. Is this your first time?”  
”At one of these parties, yeah.” Not wanting to sound like fresh meat, she hastily added: “Not my first time at Indigo, though.”  
“Or with Dominic.” Ric gave her a knowing smile.  
“Is it that obvious?”  
“Only if you have eyes.” They both laughed. “No, seriously. The way he was looking at you – you were looking at each other - it was obvious there was some chemistry or connection there.”  
“Shit, sorry. Was I distracting?”  
“Not in a bad way. It was pretty hot.”  
His answer caught her off guard.  
“But I thought… I mean I assumed…”  
”That I was gay?” She was grateful he finished the sentence for her, and that he wasn’t offended. “It’s a fair assumption, but no, I’m bisexual. Never really explored it until I lost my wife, so I guess you could say I’m making up for lost time.”  
“Wait, you’re telling me you’re a _bi vers_?!” Damon’s voice caught her off guard as he approached, still toweling off his hair. “It’s like you made being indecisive a way of life.”  
“Blow me.” Ric shot back.  
“I don’t think your refractory period is up to that, old man.”  
The two of them bickered like an old married couple: Bonnie could see what Damon had meant when he’d said in another life, they might be friends.  
“You sure you still want to sleep with this asshole?” Ric said to her jokingly.  
“I should hope so.” Damon looked at her, but continued speaking to Ric. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Ric looked to her for confirmation. She gave Damon a questioning look, and he looked back with an expression that said “ _trust me_ ”. They had talked about this a lot: Damon’s work depended on his appearing untethered - free and single, and his job was on the line if his boss found out he was dating a client (former or not). She wasn’t sure what it meant that he was telling Ric, but he obviously wasn’t worried about him ratting them out, so Bonnie nodded. “Huh.” His eyes flitted between them for a moment, and Bonnie held her breath – if Damon had judged this wrong, it could spell the end of his career, and for what? It was vexing trying to discern what he was thinking – he could have been assessing whether he thought it was some kind of kink or if there was some agenda there, or if he thought she was ‘good enough’ for him, but when his head tilted a little to the side as he looked her up and down, she caught the hint of curiosity in his eyes… curiosity tinged with desire, as if he was imagining how Damon’s body (which he knew so well) might fit with hers. “I should get going. I’m sure you guys are dying to get your hands on one another, and I have a long drive back...” He hesitated for a second. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping bounds here, but if you’re ever in the market for a casual third party to have some fun with, Dominic knows how to contact me.” Bonnie blinked back her surprise and couldn’t manage much more than a half-wave as he said goodbye. They were, unsurprisingly, pretty open about sex, but neither of them had ever brought up the possibility of inviting someone else into their bed. In all honesty, she’d never even really thought about it, but now that it was _offered_ … Well, they weren’t there yet, but someday, it was a conversation she’d be open to having, especially with Ric as the guest star.

Damon’s gaze on her burned her skin with its intensity in the immeasurable moments while Ric’s footsteps were still audible. Alone at last, Damon’s body was flush against hers from root to tip the second the door clicked shut. His hands were frantic, fingertips almost bruising as his mouth claimed hers, roving down the taut length of her neck with a possessiveness that had her head swimming – almost like he was reclaiming his territory (which was _super hot_ ). Things were getting hot and heavy super fast, and he was still so fucking _hard_ , even after hours and hours of fucking and being fucked. It occurred to her he probably hadn’t come all night: Everything to this point was just foreplay _._ They hadn’t discussed this part in advance, but Bonnie didn’t think she would be able to handle it if she had to wait until they got home to have him – she couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling. She managed to grind out one word.   
“Here?”   
She felt him shake his head against her skin and her heart sank at the thought of having to wait any longer.   
“Next door. Saved it for us.”   
_Oh thank god._   
It made something warm bloom in her belly alongside the lust that he’d planned for this – that he’d saved a room with close proximity and clean sheets to bed her. That said, how they made it even that far was a miracle. She half-stumbled, was half carried into the room next door. The party was coming to an end now, but this room was marked as private, so there was no chance of them being interrupted. After tonight, Bonnie wouldn’t necessarily object to being watched with Damon at some point – in fact, she was kind of into the idea – but right now she wanted to be the sole focus of his attention, and she had a feeling he felt the same. He had her pressed against the wall in seconds with her legs wrapped around him, grinding into her hard enough to make her eyes roll back.

Unsurprisingly, foreplay wasn’t Damon’s usual trademark slow-as-molasses deconstruction of Bonnie’s self-restraint; Bonnie was still soaking through her panties, and Damon had been hard for hours, so neither of them had much appetite for more of a build-up, though he did peel off her new lingerie with an astonishing reverence (which she appreciated – they were expensive, and she’d sacrificed more than enough pairs of panties to his fervour) before pushing her bodily into the bed without so much as pulling back the covers first. That first thick press of him into her was heavenly, and there was something dominant in the way he held her that stood in stark contrast with how passively he’d been taken in the next room, and Bonnie relished the memory of one while enjoying the actuality of the other. As he started to move, she wondered if he was still feeling the absence of a cock in him the way she did after being thoroughly fucked, and the thought had her hips canting up to meet his sharp thrusts.

She lost herself to the cadence of his movement and the feeling of his lips and skin on hers, what little capacity for thought she had was swimming with the images from earlier, until Damon’s voice broke through the lustful fog of her thoughts.   
“You have no idea how crazy it made me, watching you watch me. Didn’t know how you would react, if you’d freak out or hate it, but _fuck_ , when I saw how much it turned you on... I could almost _taste_ you when you came - wanted to feel you on my tongue while he fucked me.”

Bonnie _loved_ it when he talked during sex. He didn’t do it often, which was almost better because it meant she appreciated it more when he did. Someday she wanted to see if she could come from his voice alone, but for now the combination of his words and the feel of his cock stroking every inch of her insides made her feel like she was levitating.   
“Keep talking. Please.”   
He obliged her without hesitation, and she drifted into the sound of his voice.   
“Almost lost it completely and moaned your fucking name while he was in me. I was dying for your hands on me, or even on him, but I knew if you so much as laid a hand on me, I’d come, and I wanted _this_. Wanted to feel you. _God_ you have no idea how good you feel, especially when you already came. So tight I can barely breathe - Like the rest of the world falls away and all there is is wet heat and the slide of skin and those fucking sounds you make. It’s heaven. It’s… fuck… four other women tonight and none of them came _close_ to what you do to me.” His words were losing their coherency and his rhythm was starting to give, so she knew he was getting close. If she knew him, he was fighting it back with everything he had. “You make me feel like I’m barely even human. It sounds like such alpha bullshit, but it’s like I want to mark every inch of your body with my scent.” She could feel it – the way his thick cock dragged inside her as he thrust had long since erased all trace of Katherine’s slender fingers. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel something primal in covering his body in her sweat and slick in return. “I want you to feel this tomorrow. Want you to still be aching with it when I fuck you again. I… fuck…”   
Bonnie could feel him thickening and jerking inside her – hanging on by a thread. His words had had the desired effect and she was practically gushing around him, so sensitive she thought she could almost feel his pulse. It didn’t take more than breathing his name against his neck to make him come, letting out a sharp whine against her skin and pulsing in her as she felt his warmth flood into her, his orgasm fueling the fire of her own, bone-shaking climax.

It was far from the most drawn out sex they’d ever had (no, that came later after they got home and Damon spent the rest of the night putting her body through its paces), but it was up there with the hottest, and the offer Ric had put on the table would be occupying her mind for a long while to come. Somehow she felt closer to him than ever, and things were only getting better.


	19. Chapter 19

"Are you sure you're OK with this? It's kind of a big step. I'd be okay if you wanted to back out."  
Damon didn't look up from tying his shoes.  
"Last weekend you watched me get fucked in the ass at a sex party, and you think meeting your friends is a big deal?" Damon fired back at her. "Besides, you survived meeting my friends, and that included a terrifying sadist and Katherine. So… _two_ terrifying sadists."  
Bonnie smiled and rolled her eyes.  
"Point taken. I just can't shake the nerves. I don't have much in the way of family left, so Caroline and Elena mean a lot to me" Damon stood up and smoothed down his shirt.  
"I promise I'll be on my best behaviour." He flashed her a flirtatious smirk.  
"That’s what I'm worried about." Bonnie clapped back before sighing. "Caroline is going to be a tough sell. I kind of cried all over her when you blew me off."  
Damon visibly hesitated for a second grabbing his keys off the table  
"What did you tell her?"  
"Not the truth, obviously. She thinks we were friends with benefits and you ghosted me when I wanted more."  
He leaned against the table.  
"Wow, no wonder she thinks I'm an asshole."  
"I think she prefers the term 'fuckboy'." Damon winced. "Sorry. If I thought there was the remotest chance-"  
"Don't." He cut her off. "Apologise, I mean. That was on me. I was an asshole."  
There was a hint of pain in his expression - Bonnie knew he hated thinking about those weeks. About how close they'd come to not having this at all. She gave him a soft smile, going over to slip her arms around his waist in comfort.  
"It just means that dialling the charm up to 11 probably do the trick for her. It'd turn Elena into a giggling puddle on the floor, but for Caroline it'll just reinforce the 'fuckboy' preconception."  
"You mean I have to win her over with my _personality_?" He feigned a look of incredulity. "We're screwed."  
Bonnie laughed and gave him a playful slap on the arm.  
"You're sure you don't want to back out? I can tell them you got sick or something.”  
"Caroline and Elena are important to you, right?"  
"They are."  
"Then let's not keep them waiting."

Bonnie had butterflies in her stomach all the way there. It was so, so important to her that her friends and Damon got along - until now, she had felt like Damon was her dirty little secret, but things were obviously getting serious between them, and keeping the two halves of her life separate was becoming exhausting. The venue for the all important first meeting was somewhere she and her friends had been going to since the days where they needed fake IDs to get a cocktail, but it was also a strategic choice: As well as being somewhere that put them at ease, the Mystic Grill was a bar/restaurant hybrid, which meant they could sit and eat and chat without the pressing intimacy of a restaurant or cafe, and also gave them the avenue of dancing and drinking of things started to feel tense. She walked in the door alone - Damon had gone to park the car - and immediately spotted her girlfriends in their usual spot up on the mezzanine, who greeted her with an excited squeal.   
"Oh my god, it's been FOREVER. Hi, sweetie!" Caroline stood up and pulled her in to a hug.  
"How are you?" Elena asked as she greeted her with a hug of her own. "And where's the guy? Caroline almost had an aneurysm when you said there was someone you wanted us to meet."  
Caroline didn't give her an opportunity to reply.  
"Can you blame me? I think the last time you were serious enough about a guy to introduce us, you still slept with Miss Cuddles." Caroline dug at her.  
"Damon's just parking the car. He'll be right here."  
Bonnie held her breath and waited for the fallout: She _may_ have chickened out of mentioning his name when arranging the meet up.  
"Damon? As in fuckboy, blind-date-crashing, broke-your-heart, asshole Damon?"  
"I feel like I missed last week's episode." Elena chimed in. "Should I know what she's talking about?"  
Bonnie was about to explain, but Caroline talked over her.  
"Bonnie was messing around with this Damon guy casually.” Caroline said his name like it was a disease. “He panicked and went AWOL when things got more serious." Bonnie winced, but it was mostly accurate. "So what, he figured out what a colossal fuck up it was to ghost you, came grovelling back and you just let him?"  
She sighed. "It wasn't like that. We talked things out and did the whole actual dating thing... I really, _really_ like him, and I want you guys to get along. Can you give him a chance? Please, Care?"  
Caroline sighed, then did a double take looking towards the door. Bonnie had seen that expression on her friend's face enough times to know that it meant she had spotted a total hottie.  
"If it means less competition for the unbelievably hot guy that just walked in, you have my blessing. Elena are you seeing this?"  
Elena's head snapped up and her eyes went wide. Bonnie stifled a laugh - she had a pretty good idea of what (or, more specifically, who) had caught their attention, and was waiting for the opportune moment to gloat.  
"Not seeing enough of it. Bonnie, just because you're dating doesn't mean you can't window shop. You should _see_ this guy. I wonder who he's looking for?"  
"Me, if there's a god." Caroline said dreamily, which Bonnie took as her cue to chime in.  
"I don't need to look. Let me guess, black messy hair, blue bedroom eyes, ass you could bounce a quarter off of?"  
Caroline looked around as if trying to see where Bonnie had caught a reflection or something, and the giggle she was holding in sputtered out.  
"What's so funny?"  
Time to put them out of their misery. She spun around in her seat, eyes catching as expected on Damon as he searched the crowded venue for her and her friends. She so wished she could've seen her friends faces when he turned in response to his name. "Damon! We're up here." She pointed him towards the stairs and turned back to her friends as he made his way up, a very satisfying feeling bubbling in her chest at the clear shock on their faces.

"Evening ladies. Sorry I'm late, parking was a bitch. If my baby ends up on bricks because I had to park in an alley, I’ll never forgive myself." He leaned in and gave Bonnie a kiss, before turning to Elena, who was still a little bug-eyed and Caroline, who had recovered quickly and seemed to have remembered she wasn't supposed to like the guy and was now glaring daggers at him. Damon was unfazed. "Blonde, peppy, looks vaguely like she wants to put my testicles in a vice... You must be Caroline. Which would make you-" He turned his attention to the still-dazed brunette. "Elena." Bonnie saw the flicker of surprise cross his face as he must've realised Bonnie wasn't exaggerating her resemblance to Katherine. "Bonnie has told me so much about you both. I can't wait to get to know you better, and hopefully convince you I'm not an irredeemable scumbag. I'm gonna need some Dutch courage though, what can I get everyone?"  
As soon Damon headed back downstairs to grab their drinks, Caroline turned back to Bonnie.  
"Okay, you and I are going to need to have a conversation about omitting pertinent details from conversations. Like when you failed to mention the guy we were meeting was the same guy who broke your heart a couple months back, or that he looked like a Calvin Klein underwear model."  
"Does he have a brother?" Elena mused still unabashedly checking him out as he stood at the bar.  
"I'm sorry for the blindside, Care. And yes, Elena, he has a brother but they aren't close so no, I can't set you up." Elena frowned.  
"I just... I saw how broken up you were when he bailed. I don't want you getting hurt again."  
"Things are so different now, Care. I can't promise it'll be all sunshine and rainbows - relationships never are - but we were on different pages before. Hell, I don't even think we were in the same book. But now neither of us are under any illusion about what this is and what it isn't. And it's _good_."  
Caroline gave her a naughty smile.  
"Yeah, I remember you telling me _how_ good, and don't think for a second we're letting you off the hook for that one. You guys have been hooking up for _months_ and you owe us details."  
Bonnie was a little scared of that conversation - it was their group tradition when one of them (though admittedly nine times out of ten, it was Caroline) had a new honey to spend an evening drinking cocktails and talking about the sex. And while in some ways Bonnie was dying for her turn to be the one to scandalise and delight her friends with her escapades, she was also aware that it would be difficult to do so without slipping up and saying too much or hinting about Damon's occupation. Still, that was a problem for another time: They had to get through tonight first.

Damon returned with a tray full of drinks, dishing them out and spinning the empty tray with a flourish before setting it down by the booth and sliding into his seat.  
"So are you a bartender, Damon?" Elena asked, kicking off the conversation. It was a solid guess, given his dexterity with the tray.  
"Bonnie did say you guys met in a bar." Caroline added.  
"I tended bar for a while when I was younger, but I'm in marketing now. Freelance." Marketing was Damon's go-to answer when it came to his job. It was boring enough not to prompt too many questions he might not be able to answer, and plausible given that it necessitated the kind of charisma that Damon exuded naturally, while also paying well enough to provide his designer wardrobe. Being 'freelance' also explained away the lack of an employer and any slips when talking about appointments or clients. "And what else did Bonnie tell you about when we met? Because I bet the next round of drinks we have a _very_ different recollection of how that went." They had agreed to stay as close to the truth as possible to make it more convincing, and… yeah, that was certainly true enough.  
"She didn't tell me much, what with the being heartbroken and all." Caroline answered sourly. Clearly, it was going to take a little longer to bring her onside.“  
"We were both there on our own." Bonnie supplied, trying to keep the conversation moving. "I wasn't looking for anyone, certainly wasn't in the market for anything serious. That changed when Damon came over and started flirting, though, and I guess the rest is history."  
Damon scoffed disbelievingly.  
"That is not even _remotely_ how it happened." He turned to Caroline and Elena. "She wouldn't even give me the time of day at first."  
"If she wasn't interested, why didn't you back the hell off?"  
"Caroline!" Elena chided.  
"No it’s fair, that probably would've been my question, too." Damon supplied. "I did back off. Well, sort of. I stopped going for the ‘hard sell’ and figured an evening than in the company of a stunning, intelligent, if slightly antagonistic woman wasn't a total loss." He gave her a wink when she raised her eyebrow at the 'antagonistic' remark, but it was a far more accurate portrayal of their first meeting than hers had been. "But in spite of her best efforts to the contrary, she was clearly obsessed with me, so the evening took a different turn.” And she was back to rolling her eyes. “Not that I was complaining, obviously."  
"So what, you're the one night stand that never went home?"  
Bonnie and Damon both smirked a little at Caroline's question.  
"Sort of." She answered.  
"We didn't exactly sleep with one another that first time." Damon clearly knew his answer would only invite further questions; Bonnie wondered just how much he was planning to tell them. "Or the next"

Damon had clearly found that the way to her friends' hearts was through their penchant for gory details. They gasped and squealed and jostled Bonnie as Damon told a (slightly sanitised) version of how they got to know one another: His 'striptease', the phone sex, and (in his retelling) Bonnie cruelly denying him gratification and keeping him wanting more as he went down on her week after week. Her friends were enrapt – Damon’s natural charisma interspersed with conspiratorial whispers and that naughty smirk of his had them hanging on every word. So much so that when he excused himself to go get them another round of drinks just as they had gotten to the night of Bonnie's disastrous blind date, they practically swarmed her.

To her surprise it was Elena that led the conversation.  
"Okay, what's wrong with him?"  
"What?"  
"No guy is that good looking and charming _and_ goes down on you for weeks with no payoff unless there's a catch."  
"Is he in debt? Alcohol problem? Commitment phobia? Crazy stalker ex?" Caroline seemed to have an endless list of potential flaws to explore.  
"Whoa. Guys, there isn't anything like that." Bonnie hoped they didn't mention his job, because she was a terrible liar and it would just show on her face. "Isn't it possible I just found a good one?"  
"We're just worried for you, sweetie." Elena added, but Bonnie suspected her motivations were more likely to be jealousy than concern. "I don't know - No guy is that perfect."  
"From that hickey on your neck, I'm erring towards vampire." Caroline added.  
Bonnie rolled her eyes. She loved her friends, but their fierce loyalty for one another had a downside – no-one was ever good enough for their standards. It was sweet, but toxic. He was obviously doing a good job at winning them over though, if the biggest flaw they could find was a lack of flaws. The two of them were still spouting conspiracy theories when she dove back into the conversation.  
"Look, I'm not saying he's perfect - he works long hours, has more hair products than me, and hides behind bravado when he's nervous. But he's also sweet, and funny, and unbelievably hot, and he makes me so happy I have to pinch myself when I'm with him to prove I'm not dreaming. So can you guys just suck it up and try to be happy for me?  
Damon chose that moment to reappear, but the way Caroline looked at her when she spoke to him told her she would at least try.  
"So, what happened with the blind date?"

Bonnie told the girls about her disastrous blind date, and Caroline stumbled over a frantic apology when she heard about what a creep the guy had been. She told the story up until their chance meeting in the bar, and Damon took the reins from there. When Katherine's name was mentioned, Bonnie took the opportunity to bring up the striking resemblance between her and Elena.  
"I swear, it's like you were separated at birth or something." Bonnie said. "Right?" She looked to Damon for assent.  
"I gotta admit, I thought Bon had to be overstating it before, but looking at you now, yeah it's kinda creepy. Don't worry though, Katherine is _definitely_ the evil twin."  
"Do you have a picture of her?" Elena asked, clearly curious to see if the resemblance was as striking as they claimed.  
"Sure. I actually have one from that night I think."  
It was like watching a car crash unfold before her eyes as Bonnie watched Damon pull up the picture and hand over the phone. She saw Elena's face light up with shock as she compared Katherine's features to her own, touching her face as if to feel the similarities... (pointedly ignored Caroline's comment that _"the blonde guy looks cute_ ", because she had bigger problems than her friend's passing attraction to someone whose idea of an icebreaker is " _do you have a safeword?_")... And watched as her expression turned to confusion and suspicion in an instant as she recognised another face in the photo.  
"You said these guys were your friends from work?"   
Bonnie went to kick Damon under the table in warning, but she was too late.  
"Yeah." He confirmed.  
"Then why is Enzo there?" Damon's expression turned cold as the realisation hit him – Elena had been to Indigo. "I know him. Enzo was the guy from that super fancy brothel. The one Bonnie took me to after my split from Matt.”   
Damon looked at her, wordlessly both apologising for the slip and looking for her steer on where she wanted to take it from here.   
“Bonnie? Did you know?” Caroline looked at her accusingly. “Wait, of course you did.”  
”Care-“   
“Is she paying you to be here?” She threw at Damon, provoking fire in his eyes.   
“What? No!”

Bonnie sucked in a breath. The cat was out of the bag – it was a matter of damage control now. The best thing she could do was be honest.   
“Look, cards on the table: I did start out as his client. We met the night I took Elena to Indigo.” Caroline’s eyes were practically burning with self-righteousness. “ _But_ there was this chemistry between us that meant we never managed to keep things professional. Everything changed that night we ran into one another after the shitty date.”   
Elena still looked uncertain (and honestly with the way the truth had come out, Bonnie couldn’t blame her), but it was Caroline who was wearing a scowl.   
“Maybe she’s not putting money directly into your bank account anymore, but I bet you’re milking her for every cent, aren’t you?”  
”That’s not fair.” Bonnie’s voice sounded icy even to her.   
“Oh, you expect me to believe he paid for the John Varvatos shirt and the Prada shoes himself? He’s a _gold digger_ , Bonnie!”

  
“He’s not-“

Before she could finish her sentence, Caroline dug around in her purse and threw a not-insubstantial wad of cash down on the table.  
"Is that enough?” She spat at Damon. “Would you sleep with me if I paid you?"  
"Caroline-" Bonnie started to protest but Damon cut her off.  
"Yeah, actually I would." Bonnie's objection died in her throat. "And I’d make it the best goddamn night of your life." His tone changed to something unrecognisable. "Then I'd go home to her." He pointed to Bonnie, and she felt a warmth bloom in her chest. "I'd take a shower to wash your cloying perfume off me, then I'd throw on some sweats, cuddle up with my girl on the couch and tell her about my day. Bonnie doesn't really give a fuck about the vanilla bimbos I see, so I'd be surprised if you merited more than a sentence. She likes hearing about the guys though, so I might embellish a little to get her in the mood before taking her to bed. Then I'd make love to my girlfriend while wondering how I ever got so lucky, and never give you a second thought." Damon wasn't quite done. "Incidentally, that" (he gestured to the pile of cash in the table) "would barely cover enough of my time to remove the sanctimonious rod from your ass, so watch out for sticker shock."

For a moment, it seemed like Damon had done the impossible – Caroline was lost for words. Elena, who had been listening to the whole exchange relatively impartially, turned to Bonnie.   
“Doesn’t it bother you? That he sleeps with other people?” Her tone was non-judgmental, and didn’t have the combative edge that Caroline’s comments had been dripping with.   
“Honestly? It used to. The way we got together had me thinking the lines were a lot more blurred than they are – but I don’t feel that way anymore. Like Damon said, we talk about it openly, and actually sometimes it can be kind of hot.”   
She considered mentioning the sex party, but thought better of it – maybe in a few months, once they were more on-side, she might show them how deep the rabbit hole goes. But for now, she’d settle for having them put the torches and pitchforks aside.   
“And he makes you happy?” Again, Caroline was still eerily silent - Elena was the one asking the real questions.   
Bonnie turned to look at Damon, and poured as much love as she could into her gaze – it couldn’t be easy to sit there and listen to them make degrading assumptions, and while she had every reason to fight for their acceptance, he didn’t: It meant a lot that he was still here. Her hand slid into his.   
“He does.”   
The tiny half-smile he gave her made everything better.   
“Then we’re happy _for_ you. Aren’t we, Care?”   
“Of course.” Caroline looked like she’d swallowed a live bee, but between Elena putting her on the spot and Damon putting her in her place, it left her with little option but to agree. “That being said, if you hurt her again or those lines get even a little blurry, I’ll key your precious car.”   
>It wasn’t exactly a wholehearted endorsement, but it was the best she could hope for.   
“Noted.” Damon replied, raising his drink in a simulated toast.   
There were a few seconds of strained silence, before Elena and Caroline spoke almost simultaneously:<   
“So, is Enzo single?”   
“Anyway, tell me more about the hot blonde guy.”

The rest of the evening was relatively calm. It was clear that Caroline would never approve of Damon – they would be, at best, frenemies – but they were civil enough, and by the end of the night she at least had a grudging respect for him… Helped along by the fact he was an _excellent_ wingman: Elena left with a freshly revamped Tinder profile, and Caroline with the bartender’s phone number and a promise of an introduction to Klaus (and if Damon forgot to mention Klaus’ particular leanings in advance, that was pure coincidence). While things could have gone better, they definitely could have gone worse, and in a way, it was a relief to have things out in the open and not have to worry about maintaining a façade. As they left the grill (as a group, because Damon had agreed to drop the others home), Damon’s arm slipped around Bonnie’s back and she caught Elena’s smile at the gesture. Even Caroline, who had initially rolled her eyes, gave a little smile of her own. She and Damon had faced down the odds at every turn, and Bonnie felt like they could take on the world. If only she'd known how prophetic that would prove to be.


	20. Chapter 20

Everything was perfect, and that was a problem: Things were going _too_ well, and no-one was ever afforded this kind of happiness without consequences. Bonnie should have seen this coming. Instead, when their lazy Friday morning in bed was interrupted by the sharp trill of Damon’s phone, she was unimpressed, but unconcerned.   
“Hold that thought.” Damon whispered as he broke their languid kiss.   
“Don’t answer it.” She asked, pressing a kiss to the spot on his jaw that usually had him wrapped around her little finger. He shivered, but didn’t concede.   
“It could be Stefan.” He said apologetically, reaching for the offending device buzzing away on the nightstand (which was by far and away her least favourite of the many buzzing devices contained within), pulling away from her reluctantly to answer it.   
“Hello… Oh hey Ginger!” A work call then – probably one of the guys called in sick and they needed a replacement. Bonnie rolled her eyes and took the opportunity to kiss down his torso, intending to remind him of all the reasons he should keep his day off. While initially, he smirked down at her, his expression changed quickly from playful and relaxed to taut and concerned. “Sure. Do you know what about?” Bonnie quirked an eyebrow, but he just pulled away from her and stood up. “That’s okay, put her through I guess.” Damon held up a finger to tell her to give him a minute, before stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door. Bonnie wished she could’ve heard the other side of the conversation so she knew what had him so wigged, but resigned herself to sitting up and waiting for him to come back.

When he stepped back into the room, every hint of colour had drained from his face.   
“What happened? Is everyone okay?” Indigo went to great lengths to assure the escorts’ safety, but that didn’t mean it was completely safe… She just hoped no-one was hurt.   
“What? Yeah. I mean sort of.”   
”Damon?” She prompted.   
“Sage knows. About us.”   
Bonnie’s heart all but stopped.   
“How?”   
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.” He ran a hand through his hair before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “She wants to talk in person. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s too classy to fire me over the phone.”   
Bonnie felt her chest crack. While early on in their relationship she would have been quietly jumping for joy at the thought of him no longer sleeping with people for money, now she knew how much more there was to his job, and more importantly how much it meant to him. The idea of him losing it because of her…   
“I’m sorry.” She rested her hand on his bare shoulder to comfort him, and he overlaid it with his – a non-verbal ‘ _it’s not your fault.’_. “What will happen to your clients?” She thought about Julie and her heart sank to her feet. “Could you keep seeing any of them? Independently, I mean.”  
”That’s not an option – our contracts are airtight. I so much as get in touch with with anyone again, I’ll be knee deep in lawyers until I’m 50. Technically I shouldn’t even be allowed to maintain contact with _you_ \- I just have to hope Sage distinguishes between us and me stealing Indigo’s client base.” He huffed a sigh. “I guess they’ll be reassigned? Maybe I can talk Sage into letting me make some recommendations before she kicks me to the kerb.” He looked down at his feet, dejected. “Falling for a client is like the cardinal sin: No reputable club will hire someone who they think can’t maintain that boundary. But I can’t do anything else - I can’t _be_ anything else.”

“Sure you can.” It broke her heart to see Damon – who oozed confidence from every pore - looking so lost. She rubbed her thumb against his skin gently. “You’re smart, you’re not work-shy, and you’re better with people than any of my PR guys. There’s plenty out there for a guy like you.”   
“Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced. He sighed deeply. “I’d better get suited up. Better make myself presentable – I wanna to look good for the death of my career.” He said bitterly.   
“Hey.” She pulled him to her before he could get up and pulled him in for a kiss that tried to convey all the love and support she could. “Indigo was lucky to have you, but I know I’m luckier. Remember that, no matter what she says.”   
He kissed her back – it lacked his normal passion, but she felt the love in it.   
“I hate this, but it was worth it. If this was the payoff for us to happen, I’m okay with it.” He gave her a weak smile. “We knew this was a risk going in, right?”   
_Yes, but risk and reality are very different._ She rested her forehead against his for a second, before moving to let him get up. She half-watched as he put on his most expensive darkwash jeans, a black shirt, and a black skinny tie – looking every part the professional he had that first night they’d met. She gave him one last deep kiss before he walked out the door, hoping it might bolster him in whatever small way she was capable of.

\---

Damon felt like he was walking to his execution. He took in a deep breath before knocking on Sage’s door.   
“Come.” He wagered that Sage issuing that command in that exact tone was rarely used in such a benign setting.   
Sage was what Damon would define as a formidable woman. She had been a Domme back in her professional days (which had to be apparent to anyone with a full complement of senses), and consequently she was more than a little intimidating – able to make a man squirm with nothing more than a flick of that gaze that belied a wisdom and experience of years spent squashing men (and the odd woman) beneath her heels. She spoke her mind without hesitation or regard for anyone’s feelings, which on any other day was a quality Damon rather admired, but not today.   
“You wanted to see me?”   
“‘Wanted’ is something of a stretch. Sit.”   
Again, her tone permitted no defiance, so he took the seat in front of her desk. On the other rare occasions he had sat in this chair before, he had draped himself in it with a brash confidence. The two of them had never been equals of course, but in the years since he’d blossomed from the egotistical fucker who had strutted in to her office and stupidly thought he could rock her world to the justifiably arrogant pro who _knew_ he could, she had made it clear she respected his professionalism. More than once, he’d sat in this very chair after his shift with a glass of (real) bourbon and acted as a sounding board for her on topics like renovations, themeing for their parties, and even how new employees were working out (he had been the only reason she had given Enzo’s ‘boyfriend experience’ the time of day). As one of the few employees with both the confidence and the lack of self preservation to openly disagree with her, she valued his opinion more than most - that is to say, enough not to dismiss it outright or fire him for daring to express it. But this time he didn’t feel like her confidante - more like a schoolboy sent to the principal’s office for chastisement. He sat like one – an upright and unfamiliar pose attempting to convey contrition. She didn’t even look up from her paperwork.

“I take it I don’t have to tell you the extent of your colossal fuck up?”   
Damon winced.   
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”   
“How romantic.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm – he was pretty sure the impassive woman didn’t believe in love. “Is that supposed to somehow mitigate the fact that you committed the cardinal sin of our profession?” He looked down at his folded hands – of course it didn’t. “You should have nipped it in the bud and salted the fucking earth before it got the chance to be anything more than a passing fancy.”   
“I know.” There was no point in trying to defend himself: She was right. “I tried – ask Enzo – but it was like fighting gravity. I’ve never-“   
“Enzo was aware of your transgressions?” She raised an eyebrow.   
_Fuck._ He hadn’t meant to implicate Enzo. He was prepared to face the consequences of his choices, but he’d be damned if he dragged his friends down with him.   
“Not exactly. I transferred her bookings to him, tried to end things.” He was careful not to incriminate his friend further by mentioning exactly how they started seeing one another again. “But it was way too late… If I’m honest, day one was probably too late.”   
“Well well, it seems she has you pretty thoroughly tamed.” Sage finally looked up from the folder of papers she was reviewing – probably financials “Was it worth your career?”. She threw them down on her desk with a smack. “I mean obviously you know I can’t let you carry on whoring.”   
He knew it – but it didn’t make hearing it any less gutting.   
“It was worth it.” He said it with all the certainty it felt. “You know I love my job, but if it’s the job or her?” He shook his head. “There’s no question.”   
She tilted her head to the side in a way that was mildly predatory – like a lioness watching a gazelle.   
“Such a waste.” She mused. “You know how I hate to see potential squandered.” Damon’s eyebrow quirked – there was something else she wasn’t saying. “Which is why I have a proposition for you.”

\---

Damon was pulling off his tie and heading for the decanter of bourbon before the door had even closed behind him, and this kind of harrowed, numb look in his eyes. Bonnie snapped up from the couch immediately – she’d been sitting on a bed of nails since the moment he’d left, and he’d been gone for hours – at first she’d thought he had gone out and gotten drunk after, but he was sober.   
“Are you okay? What happened?” He threw back the shot and immediately poured another without answering. _That can’t be good._ She approached him cautiously – he still had that kind of ‘deer in the headlights look’ and slid her hand into his. “What happened?” She asked again.   
“She gave me Indigo.” Bonnie had to have misheard him. Whether her expression conveyed her confusion or he just needed to say it again, he repeated: “She gave me the club.”   
“What?!”   
“She’s moving to New York to open a new club there, so she wants me to run Indigo.”   
“Permanently?”   
“Yeah.”

He was obviously still shellshocked, but Bonnie let out a kind of half-manic laugh of joy and relief, grabbing Damon and pulling him close, tasting the bourbon on his lips in a congratulatory kiss and embrace that he took a moment to reciprocate. That seemed to pull him out of his daze – evidently, enough to awaken his dormant panic.   
“I can’t do this.” She didn’t know if he was talking to her or himself. “I’m a hooker for god’s sake, I’m not a business guy. You want me to strip naked and waggle my eyebrows, I’m an expert, but I don’t know shit about HR or profit margins or whatever.”   
“I do.” Bonnie said matter-of-factly. “And fortunately for you, I’m willing to trade my expert consulting services for services in kind. Presuming you wanted to maintain your more hands-on proficiency, so to speak.” Her smile faltered for a second. “What about your clients?”  
”I can keep a handful – maybe four or five. Just to prove I still know what the hell I’m talking about and keep me sane. Julie and Ric, obviously, and a couple of others.”

Damon was clearly still overwhelmed. He had gone in fully anticipating browsing the want-ads tomorrow, and now he was going to be running the business he thought he was being fired from. Bonnie was pretty sure she knew the answer to this, but felt she had to ask – if only to get him to realise the answer.   
“Is this what you want? It’s okay if you’re not.”   
“I think so? I mean, yeah I am.” He seemed to get more sure even as he was saying it out loud. “Absolutely. I don’t have to give up this thing I love doing, I don’t have to say goodbye to my friends… it’s more than I ever hoped for. It’s just… I never even considered this, y’know? It was never on my radar. For women, because society kind of sucks, escorting is a short term option, but male escorts with salt and pepper hair aren’t exactly rarities, so I figured I’d just do it until I couldn’t anymore. This came totally out of the left field. But…” For the first time since he got in, he smiled. “I get to take something I’m good at and use what I know to _make it better_. That’s… “ She could see the words running across his mind, even though he didn’t say them out loud: _Amazing, daunting, exciting, terrifying_. “You’ll really help me?”   
He no longer looked anxious – instead he looked like he was looking at his future as it stretched out in front of him: A future that included both her and the career he loved, and he couldn’t wait for it. His new found enthusiasm was contagious, and his smile echoed in her face.   
“Every step of the way.”

\---

The next few months were a lot. For the most part, everyone at Indigo was pretty accepting of the regime change. Damon was popular in the admin pool already – helped along by Ginger’s clear excitement at a boss that owed her a favour or two – and was well-respected enough among most of his colleagues. He broke the news to his friends at the bar where Bonnie had inadvertently gatecrashed their meet-up on the night that changed everything. Enzo was delighted to have his friend and former mentor holding the reigns, and congratulated him with a firm pat on the back and the offer of a drink. Klaus had acknowledged the change in power dynamic with a curt nod that accepted his new status while reaffirming his own personal authority. Katherine – perhaps unsurprisingly, given her mercurial nature – had the most extreme reaction, making a fairly spectacular scene before storming off, but after taking some space to calm down and process, she waltzed into Damon’s office a few days later demanding a pay rise for ‘teaching the boss everything he knows’ and first dibs on Damon’s more coveted appointment slots. The way she’d rationalised it, this was a first in that she’d fucked her boss in advance of him being hired to the position, but po-tay-to po-tah-to. Managing her was going to be an exercise in patience, but Damon was more than used to handling her bullshit.

Damon’s clients were reassigned without too much fuss, and while selecting the few he would keep on had been tough, Bonnie had helped him come to terms with letting the others go by assuring him he’d still be a part of their experience, just in a less direct way. Julie and Neil had bought him a bottle of Dom Perignon, which he had been happy to bring to the dinner party they threw for him and Bonnie to celebrate. The adjustment period while Damon’s sex drive learned that he _wasn’t_ expected to be fucking six hours per day were both the best and worst few weeks of Bonnie’s life: She was damn lucky her company almost ran itself because she got absolutely nothing done, her body was tender and aching in places she didn’t know she had, and the belief she had once held that her desire for Damon was unquenchable was proved wrong (on more than one occasion, she was ashamed to say she was ecstatic to hand him off to his one appointment of the week). That said, being the sole focus of his lust was like nothing she’d ever experienced, and she was fairly certain no-one had ever experienced the heights of pleasure she went to during those weeks and lived to tell about it.

Damon didn’t do anything by halves, and he threw himself wholeheartedly into every aspect of his new role: He went through the club’s financials with a fine tooth comb (the amount they spent per month on lube alone was eye-watering), learned schedules and rotas until he knew them like the back of his hand, introduced himself personally to all the club’s suppliers and larger connections… by the end of the first quarter he knew every detail, right down to how to make every cocktail on the menu. His favourite part though was wooing new influential clients and procuring new contracts among the elite: There, seducing the wealthiest and most powerful men and women into giving in to temptation was where he found his stride, and he found a whole new revenue stream for the club in providing decadent private parties to facilitate business deals (a side of Indigo Bonnie stayed resolutely away from, lest she run into someone she had a professional connection of her own with).

Bonnie had a sneaking suspicion she knew how Sage had found out about them, which was confirmed when one day Caroline had turned up on her doorstep sobbing her apology. Her contrition was a pivotal moment in their friendship, and to her surprise, it was Damon urging her to forgive and forget - “ _because everyone deserves a second chance”_. Bonnie finally met Stefan, and while she could see there was still a lot of tension and enmity between the brothers, she got the impression that there was a bond there that could be mended: With no family left of her own, she wanted that for Damon. By chance, Elena happened to be in the same restaurant for lunch, and there was a spark between her and Stefan that brimmed with promise, and she had a feeling Stefan might be convinced to attend a dinner party if she was going to be there – that was definitely going to be interesting going forward.

Bonnie was practically living at Damon’s place anyway, so when he asked her to move in it didn’t feel like as big or as sudden of a step as perhaps it should’ve been. They considered her place, but she would saw her own arm off before she gave up the view from his apartment, or the memories they had made there. After a day of driving Damon’s Camaro back and forth moving boxes from her place, she found herself sat on the rug they had just made love on with a glass of merlot looking out over the city, Damon’s lips on her shoulder and a smile on her face.   
“You’re thinking way too loud for someone who just had her third orgasm.” Damon’s arms wrapped around her. “What’s up?”   
“Just wondering what Bonnie from one year ago would say if I told her that she’d end up with that arrogant hooker who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”   
“First of all, I’m not a hooker anymore, I’m in senior management thank you very much, so I think she’d be _very_ impressed by my ability to climb the corporate ladder.” She rolled her eyes. “But I think she’d mostly be too sceptical of the time travel thing to give a damn what you said.”   
“Good point.”   
“What’s with the trip down memory lane? Getting cold feet about moving in?” His tone was light, but she could hear the underlying anxiety.   
“Not at all. Just… I never pictured a ‘happily ever after’ for myself, let alone an unconventional one – I didn’t think girls like me got to have that.”   
“Well, I’m charming, but I’m definitely no prince. And I think our story is a little risqué to get optioned by the house of mouse, but... How does this fit with the whole fairytale thing?”

It was a miracle Bonnie didn’t spill red wine all over the floor when she turned to see Damon holding up a small blue ring box. Nestled inside was a stunning diamond and lapis ring that was so perfectly her style it looked like it was made for her. Her eyes flicked to his, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate joke, but his eyes were sincere.   
“Yes.” She breathed out, eyes brimming with ecstatic tears.   
“I didn’t ask you yet.”   
”I don’t care. Yes.”   
“I had a whole speech planned out.”  
”You did?”  
”No.” He admitted, and they both laughed.   
“Wait, we’re naked - where did you pull that from?”   
“That’s really the question you’re choosing to ask right now?”   
“No. Gimme.” She grabbed the box from him and he slipped the ring out to put on her finger. Not only was it 100% her style, it was a perfect fit. “How did you-?”   
“Caroline and Elena helped me out.” Bonnie raised an eyebrow – Elena couldn’t keep a secret worth a damn, and Caroline wasn’t exactly his biggest cheerleader. “Elena’s practically captaining our ship, and Barbie is coming around – we bonded over my ability to buy jewelry out of her price range and my possession of Klaus’ phone number.”   
Even the continued threat of Klaus and Caroline meeting wasn’t enough to put a dent in her buzz.   
“I’m not taking your surname.”   
“I could take yours.”   
“No, you couldn’t.”   
“What about a conjugate? Bennetore, or Salvett?”  
”Those sound like Pokémon.”   
“I’m pretty sure proposals aren’t typically this antagonistic.” Damon teased.   
“My fairytale, my rules.” She shrugged.   
“Last time we went by your rules, I couldn’t kiss you on the mouth. And what kind of fairytale doesn't have a kiss at the end?”   
“Hmm.” She feigned contemplation before leaning in for a delicious dreamy kiss – her first as a promised woman. “I guess some rules were made to be broken.”


	21. Epilogue

_6 months later…_

“I’ve been thinking.” Bonnie mused.   
“That’s dangerous.” Damon looked up from the hasty carbonara he was throwing together – they’d both had long days at the office, but he had vetoed her call to order in, saying he could whip something up faster than it’d take to place the order.   
“Your birthday is coming up.”   
”Don’t remind me – One year closer to wrinkles and non-recreational Viagra. Ugh.”   
“For your present, how would you feel about finally taking Ric up on his offer?”   
There was a telltale clatter of his spoon against the pan, and his obvious surprise and made her smirk a little.   
“Do you think we’re ready for that?”

  
They had been a little more adventurous since that initial party at Indigo. The first time being watched while having sex had been nerve-racking to start with but soon became intoxicating, and they had experimented with anal play and toys that was definitely mutually satisfying (Bonnie was surprised how much she’d enjoyed the feeling of power there was in giving pleasure in that way). However, while actually incorporating a third party into their sex life was something they’d expressed a mutual desire to try, it was a big step – especially when they both had their own brand of possessiveness.  
“I think I want us to find out, and there’s only one way to know for sure. How about you?”  
“I think I don’t deserve you.”  
The carbonara was almost a casualty of their ensuing passion, but it was worth it. Damon was seeing Ric in a week and agreed to ask him in person then. The wait was excruciating, but when Damon came home with a smile on his face (an even bigger smile than normal after an appointment with Ric), she knew they were in business.

\---

Alaric was mid-semester and it would’ve been tricky for him to arrange a trip to Richmond in the midst of everything, so instead of making arrangements at a hotel for the three of them to meet up, he had invited them to spend the weekend with him at his house off campus (which, as it turned out, was more like a modestly palatial villa). Bonnie had her reservations at first – after all, she didn’t really know the guy – but Damon had assured her that Ric wasn’t putting any pressure on anything, was just offering for the convenience and comfort, and so she’d agreed, with the agreement that they would get out if anything seemed fishy.

Which is how, after a couple of weeks to make some arrangements, they found themselves in Massachusetts. They had considered flying, but the weather was good and the distance manageable enough that Damon was reluctant to pass up the opportunity to give his Camaro a rare road trip. Stretching her legs, they hadn’t even knocked on the door when Ric appeared to greet them.   
“You guys made good time. Good to see you again, Bonnie. And Dominic - _Damon_ …” Knowing Bonnie would have been distracted by keeping his professional name straight _in flagrante delicto_ , he’d taken the plunge and told Ric his real name. “Sorry, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”   
“Don’t sweat it.” Damon threw out – it didn’t bother him if Ric got it wrong, but he’d told Bonnie he was kind of looking forward to hearing his actual name on the man’s lips.   
“Grab your stuff and I’ll show you where you’re staying. I set you up a room down the hall from me – it’s got its own bathroom and everything, but if you want a little more distance let me know.”   
Bonnie gave Damon a vaguely impressed look. They hadn’t been 100% sure what the sleeping arrangements would be, and it was nice to know they’d have their own space, and she was sure if things went well, they would definitely appreciate the proximity. “I have a bunch of papers to grade and I promised my editor another finished chapter by Monday, so you’ll have some time to kill during the day. The pool’s private, so it doesn’t matter if you didn’t pack a bathing suit. There’s some good touristy shit nearby if that’s what you’re into.”   
“Just so long as we save some energy for the evening’s entertainment?” Damon added with a flirtatious wink and a spring in his step – the excited energy rolling off him in waves was, frankly, adorable.   
“Something like that.” Ric said with a smile.   
Ric showed them around, pointing out living spaces, the pool access, and his office ( _“where I’ll be slaving away most of the day”_ ) en route to the room he’d set aside for them.   
“This is your stop. Like I said, I’ll be in the room at the end of the hall.” He pointed out the door, which was a comfortable distance away – far enough to give them some privacy, but close enough to be accessible. “Get settled in – I’m sure you want to freshen up after that long-ass drive, and I have a couple of things I need to wrap up. We can have dinner at 7-ish and talk about what we want to get out of this, if that’s okay?”   
“Sounds good.” It sounded more than good. Ric had the easy confidence of someone who had done this before, and knew how to balance giving them their space as a couple with facilitating the kind of atmosphere that was conducive to letting things develop at a natural pace. “You need a hand with dinner?” Damon offered.   
“You never exactly struck me as the domestic type.” Ric turned to Bonnie. “Am I okay trusting him with fire?” Damon feigned indignation.   
“You’re good. He’s better in the kitchen than he is in the sack.”   
“Not sure whether that’s a compliment to my cooking or an insult to our sex life.”   
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She teased.   
“Oh yeah, you and I are gonna get along just fine.” Ric smirked. “Holler if you need anything, if not I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”   
When Ric was a safe distance down the hall, Damon pulled her close.   
“Just checking in, you okay?”   
“Yeah, I’m good.” She was a little surprised by how good - she wasn’t even nervous. “You, on the other hand, are practically vibrating. Excited, much?”   
“Can you blame me?” She couldn’t really, in all fairness. “C’mon, I think I saw a hot tub out by the pool. Wanna check it out?”

There was, in fact, a hot tub. Keeping things PG-13 in there was probably the hardest thing Bonnie had done in a long while, especially because Damon’s enthusiasm was more than evident, but the thought of what was to come was enough to keep her behaviour in check. 7pm rolled around quicker than she anticipated, and they headed down to meet up with Ric, who was already working on dinner. Damon threw himself into the role of bratty, disobedient sous-chef - he tasted Ric’s cooking and added seasoning and white wine when he thought he wasn’t looking earning him a reprimand he flirted his way out of before almost immediately fucking with the recipe Ric was following all over again, while Bonnie drank wine and laughed at the carnage that unfolded. The whole thing was so relaxed and fun, she almost forgot what they were there until after dinner, when Ric brought it up.   
“So I thought it’d be a good idea to run through some expectations. I’ve been a ‘guest star’ before, and I’ve seen it go well and… less well, and where things fell down with the latter was not talking shit out first.   
“What kinds of things?” Bonnie asked – she had been prepared for figuring things out as they went along, but this would definitely make things easier.   
“Anything you particularly want to do, what we like and what’s off limits, concerns, all of that. Mind if I go first?”   
“Sure.” She and Damon both answered together.   
“Well, I’m a pretty simple guy. You know some of my preferences already. I don’t really like anything ‘out there’. I like being watched, and taking the initiative. I’m a little nervous, because I haven’t had sex with a woman in a really long time – not since I lost my wife, actually – and I’m quite acutely aware Dom- _Damon_ … Is technically straight, so- ”  
”I’m actually trying on ‘heteroflexible’ for size.” Damon cut in.   
“Really?” Ric sounded surprised.   
“Currently that works out as ‘straight plus you’, but don’t let it get to your head.” Damon added with a wink.   
A kind of half-smile played its way onto Ric’s lips as he regarded Damon that made Bonnie want to get this part done pretty quick, so she jumped in next.   
“I think it won’t come as much of a surprise that I like watching you both together.” Damon seemed a little surprised she had volunteered to go second. “I like the idea of being touched by both of you at once. I haven’t…” She fought down a wave of embarrassment – talking about stuff now was preferable to things getting awkward later. “I don’t like anal penetration, but wouldn’t be averse to having both of you at once some other way.” The way Damon was looking at her right now, _god_ … If Ric wasn’t there, he would probably have jumped her then and there. If her skin was any lighter, she’d be blushing.   
“We can definitely work with that.” Ric’s brain was at least functional. “Damon?”   
He seemed to have to shake himself out of his lustful haze.   
“Okay, um… I’ve only ever been a third party in a couples situation, and even then only as a pro, so this whole ‘getting to have a say’ thing is kind of new for me.” He took a breath… was he nervous? “I want to watch you with him first - to be excluded until you say so. I want… I want to feel you come while he fucks me.”   
Bonnie got chills from the lust in his eyes and the need in his voice, and could feel her underwear getting damp. She had a vague idea that he liked the thought of her with someone else, but she had just presumed he envisioned himself very much in the mix – but evidently he liked the jealousy. She remembered how he had so primally ‘reclaimed’ her after Katherine had her hands on her, and magnified that to after she’d been fucked by another man… by Ric. It made her shiver.

While she had very much felt Damon’s eyes on her, she hadn’t really noticed Alaric’s, but he was regarding her with a look that told her he knew that she was starting to feel it. He did exactly what he said he was good at, and took the initiative, moving over to sit beside her.   
“Can I kiss you?” His voice was soft, but with a rough edge. She looked over at Damon, who didn’t give her a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, but simply watched to see what she would do – what she wanted to do. She turned back to Ric, who was clearly in no rush – she knew if she said ‘no’ right then, it would be no harm no foul, and bit her lip as she savoured the tension for a moment, before giving a small nod and letting her eyelids fall closed.

It was surprising how, after kissing one person for so long, you can forget how different a kiss can be with someone new. Damon’s kisses were a unique blend of possessive and passionate that left her breathless and burning, but Ric kissed with a kind of slow sweetness that made her ache. As she relaxed into it, she felt his hand brush her hair away from her face and neck, and his other had slide up her waist. She was vaguely aware of the couch dipping behind her and gasped into the kiss as she felt Damon’s lips on her neck. That dual sensation was _everything_ and she moaned, torn between climbing into Ric’s lap and pressing back against the warmth of Damon at her back. Ric broke away for a moment to speak, and she was glad he spoke to Damon as she wasn’t sure he would’ve gotten a coherent answer from her.   
“Get her wet for me.” She was very, very behind that idea.   
”That won’t take long.” Damon taunted. She felt a hint of teeth as his hand slid underneath her sundress and into her underwear that had breaking the kiss and gasping, her back arching and her chest pressing against Ric’s torso. Damon seized the opportunity and reached up to pull Ric into a frankly filthy kiss over Bonnie’s shoulder as she caught her breath. His fingers kept working between her legs, and frankly he was right – she was ready embarrassingly quickly.   
“Maybe we should-” her sentence was broken by a sharp cry as Damon’s fingers pressed hard against her clit “t-take this to the bedroom?”   
“Your place or mine?” Damon murmured Ric’s mouth.

How they made it to Ric’s room, Bonnie would never be able to tell you. There progress was hampered every step by shedding clothing or one of them pressing another against the nearest minimally stable piece of furniture or wall. Her sundress and bra and both men’s shirts were gone by the time they fumbled through the door – Ric’s physique was less defined, but no less muscular than Damon’s (the difference between a body designed to be looked at and a guy who just took care of himself), with a sprinkling of dusty blonde chest hair. It was different, but definitely good different. Ric was kissing Damon bruisingly hard and undoing his fly as they entered, and Damon made an audible sound of disappointment as he was pushed back onto the chair beside the bed, but his expression turned quickly from irked to hungry as he realised what Ric was doing.   
“Stay there until she asks for you.” His eyes went to Bonnie – checking she was good with the arrangement, which she definitely was. Her response was to pull Ric in for another kiss, with all the confidence and certainty she was missing the first time around. He was a little taller than Damon, and standing up she had to grab a handful of that coarse blonde hair to save from having to go up on the balls of her feet to reach his lips. Sliding a hand into his jeans, she wasn’t sure exactly what she’d find (having only really seen the base of it as it slid into her fiancé), but was pleasantly surprised. He may not have had Damon’s god-like proportions but he was no slouch, and it sat in her hand with a satisfying weight. He let out a deep moan as she gave a first, lazy pump, and she paused briefly to look over to Damon, who was watching them with a bone-deep desire she could feel. His hand had made its way into his own jeans, and he was palming himself – more as a measure to suppress his arousal than to satiate it.

Ric shucked off his jeans before peeling off Bonnie’s sodden panties, kissing his way down her body with barely a cursory glance to Damon, with a very clear intent. She really didn’t need the extra prep, but got the feeling this was as much for Damon’s benefit as for hers, so she made sure to be extra vocal. That said, she didn’t have to try all that hard: If he hadn’t said anything, she would never have known it had been a while since Ric had done this - Everything about the way he ate her out was so different to Damon’s now extremely familiar technique, but it was still brain-meltingly good. His hands were more active on her body, whereas Damon pretty much always fingered her while he went down on her, and his tongue practically pulsated against her clit, before lapping up everything she had to give and doing it all over again. He also had a little bit of stubble, which she definitely wasn’t mad at – she actually quite liked the added sensation of it grazing her thigh. She took it for as long as she could, which as it turns out wasn’t all that long. She was itching to be filled, and there was a competitive edge in her that wanted to make Damon beg to be allowed to touch.

One thing Damon had discussed with Ric in advance was protection: Because of the strict standards Indigo held for both its members and its employees, Damon and Ric had both literally been tested two days prior, and as Bonnie and Damon were monogamous (present company excluded), they had agreed to forego condoms and trust in Bonnie’s birth control, so when Ric slid into her, it was nothing but bare skin. He swore softly and his hips jerked a little when he slid straight in in one stroke – something he obviously hadn’t been able to do with his male partners over the past few years.   
“Fuck. I forgot how good this feels.”   
“Tell me.” Damon’s voice was breathy, and when she looked at him, his eyes were completely blown black – he looked drunk on the sight of them. “Fuck her and tell me how she feels.”   
Ric slowly started to move in her, and her eyes almost rolled back it felt so good.   
“Hot. So fucking hot… searing. Tight, but… yielding. And wet. I can literally feel her dripping for me.”   
Bonnie made sure to straighten the leg closest to Damon so he would get a clear view of Ric’s cock plunging into her. His cock curved ever so slightly to the left when erect, and that feeling was so very unlike the thick, straight press shape of Damon’s huge cock in her, so good that she didn’t miss the extra inches. His rhythm was sharper, more staccato, and she wondered if that was the result of years fucking only men. It was good, but limited her ability to really show Damon what he was missing, so she nudged him with her knee, and he rolled onto his back, eliciting a gasp as she slipped from him.

When she turned away from him before straddling him and sank down, she could immediately feel the difference – he was deeper in her and the angle was doing _everything_ for her g-spot. He didn’t dispute her taking the reins, and when she rolled her hips in the way she knew drove Damon crazy, she could’ve sworn all three of them gasped in unison. That sealed it: She needed to come, and she didn’t want to without Damon there. When she looked over at him, he was breathing hard and his eyes were pleading. It didn’t take more than a nod of her head and he was in front of her, kneeling between her legs and kissing her hard as she worked herself up and down Ric’s taut shaft. Damon didn’t pause in his attentions as he put a hand under each of Ric’s knees and pulled them up a little before gesturing for him to sit up, kissing her allthewhile. It was harder for him to thrust in that position, which left Bonnie doing a little more of the work, but she didn’t mind: Having him pressed up behind her with Damon at her front was deeply satisfying in a different way. His fingers slid down to her clit, drenching himself in her slick before teasing at her with a practiced familiarity that had her walls quivering in a matter of seconds. Damon slid one arm around her back, pulling her into him, before pulling out of the kiss just long enough to shoot Ric a warning.   
“Fasten your seatbelt, Ric.”   
He circled her clit once, twice, and pressed harder on the third pass, and she was suddenly glad of them both pressing against her because her knees gave out and her thighs shook with the violence of her climax. She was vaguely aware of Ric going rigid beneath her as Damon reached lower to squeeze his balls and as she felt his warmth gush into her, she knew the twin sensations had been the catalyst to his own release.

Bonnie was feeling blissfully fucked out as she slid off of Ric and laid down on the bed next to him to catch her breath, but also very aware that Damon hadn’t come yet. She knew that he would still be happy with the outcome – Damon loved giving pleasure, and getting both her and Ric off in tandem would be a huge stroke for his ego, but evidently she wasn’t the only one who wanted to make sure he got his.   
“Need some help with that?” Ric gestured with his head towards Damon’s cock, which was purple, leaking, and damp at the base from resting against where her and Ric’s bodies had met.   
Damon raised an eyebrow.   
“You take something before we started?”   
”Like I was gonna keep up with you without pharmaceutical help. What sort of amateur do you take me for?” He laid back fully. “Just give me like 3 minutes to boot and rally.”   
He looked at Bonnie – checking if she was on board.   
“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up when I can feel my legs.”   
Damon turned back to Ric.   
“Am I gonna find anything that’ll shock me if I go rooting around in your nightstand?”   
“Sincerely doubt it.” Ric said, clearly still trying to catch his breath.   
Damon leaning back to look through the drawer left his body arching in a way that was frankly worth of a renaissance painting, his cock jutting out beautifully in a way that would’ve made Bonnie’s mouth water if she wasn’t still riding out her high. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, and he pulled out a bottle of lube with a triumphant flourish.   
“You mind if I get started without you?”   
“Be my guest.”

Bonnie watched with an enrapt curiosity as Damon reached back with a slicked finger and pressed it against his hole. Bonnie had used her fingers on him a few times since the party at Indigo had... Ahem... _opened up_ the conversation, but it was as an added stimulation, not with the intent of working him up to anything other than orgasm. She didn't think she'd ever forget how her uncertainty had turned to fascination, and then lust, when he had ceased in his instructions and laid back to lose himself in the dual sensations of her fingers in him and her mouth on his cock. Nor the way his body went rigid and arched so sharply, shaking when she had pressed on that bundle of nerves within him, a low and desperate moan emanating from him that it became her immediate goal to replicate again and again.

She could tell from watching him now that fingering him for pleasure was very different from working him open to be fucked. He didn't chase his pleasure in the way that she had done for him, but instead fought against the pressure inside him, twisting and scissoring his fingers in an effort to stretch himself as quickly as was practicable and safe. The sounds he was making were ones of need rather than satisfaction, and even after one finger gave way to a second, she could tell he was allowing himself only the occasional barest brush against his prostate to maintain his arousal. Before he got to the point of adding a third finger himself, Ric’s interest had reasserted itself, and her attention was diverted as she watched him slick a finger and encroach on Damon, pulling him in for one of those rough, masculine kisses that was so unlike the kisses she had shared with either man, and sliding one of his fingers in alongside Damon’s two. The moan Damon released into Ric’s mouth was nothing short of pornographic, and his movements changed as he started to ride the combination of their fingers in earnest. Ric’s cock was back in the game, and with his arm supporting Damon, it left Damon’s other arm free to slide down between them and wrap a slicked hand around both of their erections, stroking together. It made for an intensely erotic visual, and while she wasn’t ready to get back into the game yet, watching them was a pleasure in and of itself.

Eventually, Damon either decided he’d had enough prep or his patience just ran out. Pulling himself off of their conjoined fingers with a whine, he pushed Ric back hard enough that he let out a kind of ‘oof’ sound as his back hit the mattress. Damon sprang up to straddle him with such a predatory grace that it made something dark and wanting bloom in Bonnie – something that was only fed when he looked over to her, locking his eyes on hers as he positioned Ric at his entrance and sank down with a single-minded purpose. The way his eyelids fluttered shut and Ric’s colourful swearing told her how good it felt, and from what she’d felt with her fingers inside Damon, she knew how tight a fit that must be around Ric’s cock. He rode Ric in a way Bonnie would be hard pushed to describe as anything other than wanton – borderline slutty. It was evident he was putting on a show for both Ric and Bonnie; every movement of his hips and flex of his abs was sinuous and designed for visual effect (though from Ric’s moans, it must’ve also felt incredible). About one in every five thrusts, he would rock back and grind down hard, letting out a punctuated moan at the pressure on his prostate.

Bonnie was starting to feel less overstimulated and her body was starting to ache for some contact, so she ran a hand over her nipples, cupping her breasts gently. Damon was unsurprisingly distracted, but Ric noticed her renewed desire, and nudged Damon to get his attention. His gaze darkened instantly when it landed on her, and she bit her lip in response.   
“What do you need?” His voice was raw and deep with passion.   
“I…” She wasn’t sure how to articulate it, let alone make it happen. “I want to wreck you.” She looked to Ric. “Want us to wreck you. Until you’re so incoherent with it you can barely breathe.”   
Damon’s eyes flashed with interest, and she could see a flash of curiosity across Ric’s face.   
“If you’re up for it, I have an idea.”   
“Very, very up.” Damon’s voice was rough.   
“If you’re just gonna shoot your wad ten seconds in, this won’t work.”  
”No, m’good.” He still sounded breathless. “I can keep it together.” 

Ric gestured for Damon to get off him so they could change positions, and both sighed at the moment when their bodies were parted. Ric repositioned them with Damon beneath him on his back, a pillow propped under his ass to make a more natural angle for Ric to thrust from his position on his knees. Ric slid back in, and the fresh penetration elicited a gasp from both of them. Ric gave a couple of thrusts to reassert there desire, before gesturing for Bonnie to join them. He thrust in hard and held Damon there with his hips (if Damon’s expression had anything to say about it, resting tantalisingly against his prostate), and Bonnie smirked as she realised he was guiding her to straddle him: A thrill ran through her whole body as she realised Ric intended her to fuck Damon while he was still inside him, and she saw Damon’s flare of realisation as he came to the same conclusion.   
“Fuck, Ric. You trying to kill me?”   
“Still think you can take it?” Ric taunted.   
“Think I’ll regret it the rest of my life if I don’t try.” He breathed. “Go slow?”   
Bonnie nodded and lifted herself to line him up with her entrance. She was still wet from earlier, with the added slick of Ric’s come still inside her, so she could easily have slid him home in one stroke, but the intense dual stimulation would have him finish there and then, and that wouldn’t do if she wanted to truly take him to pieces. Damon loved to give pleasure to others, and there was a kind of deviant joy in just making him take it until he couldn’t anymore. Teasingly, she rubbed the head of his cock along her slit, which was enough to have him panting hard. Slowly, so achingly slowly it had her shaking, she slid the tip of him inside her, and he let out keening whine. She felt him twitching against her folds and knew she had to be so, so careful. As she slipped further down, pulling back before pressing him in a fraction deeper each time, she watched the almost pained rapture bloom on his face. He had both his arms folded over his head, a pink blush blooming on his cheeks and his chest heaving with exertion, and he’d never looked more beautiful. Behind her, Ric was almost trembling with restraint, pressed up against her back to steady her.   
You’re doing great, buddy.” Ric breathed out, and Damon seemed to rally a little at the compliment, nodding in acknowledgement and releasing a single deep breath without taking his arms away from his face.

It took time, but eventually she bottomed out, delighting at that beautiful stretch only he could give her. His hips almost reflexively bucked up against her as she came to rest against him, and she lay a hand on his chest almost like she was quieting an untamed animal. Ric, bless his patient soul, was draped against her back, his neck nestled on her shoulder as he shook, seeming for all intents and purposes like he was just as strung out as Damon.   
“You guys still with me?” Bonnie barely stuttered out.   
“No.” Damon said emphatically, and she stifled a soft laugh, fearing that her reflexive clench would put an end to this before it even started.   
“Ric?” She turned so she could see him resting on her shoulder.   
“I can feel everything you’re doing to him, and it’s… It’s a lot.”   
“No fucking kidding.” Damon breathed.   
“We okay to move?”   
”One way to find out.” Damon’s voice was resolute – she knew that tone. It was the one he used when he was gritting his teeth to see her through her (usually second or third) orgasm before tumbling into his own, and he had never let her down in that regard. She felt Ric nod against her shoulder, and took the plunge.

When Bonnie moved, Ric took her cue and moved with her, pulling back just as she lifted her hips. When she plunged back down just as Ric thrust back in, Damon’s back arched so hard she feared he would snap in half, a breathy and strangled “ _oh my god_ ” the only thing he seemed able to force past his lips. Instinctively, she reached out a hand to pull one of his down to her, tangling her fingers with his to ground him. She’d never seen him like this – so completely lost in his own pleasure he was drowning in it, his focus for once not on the pleasure of his partner, but on lasting purely out of the desire to keep feeling this – and it looked so good on him. With that first experimental thrust out of the way, they started to find a slow but workable rhythm, settling on Bonnie pulling back just as Ric thrust in and vice versa, which led to a kind of ‘ebb and flow’ that meant Damon was constantly stimulated – he basically had no option but to lie back and take what they were giving: His sole anchor was her fingers twisted with his. Once they had established a baseline, Ric took a moment to brush her hair off of her shoulder and press a lingering kiss into the hollow of her neck that had her reaching back with her free hand to hold him there. They were definitely on a tight timeline here – there was no way anyone could stand the level of stimulation Damon was receiving for long – so Bonnie let herself drift into the sensations of her own, chasing her own building release. Sensing her change of direction, Ric’s fingers slipped to her clit, and the resulting moan that escaped her lips must have piqued Damon’s curiosity, as his eyes – now pure black, almost drugged-looking - finally opened and sought her out, seeking the source of her satisfaction. He must have immediately regretted it as his eyes fell on Bonnie’s naked and writhing form, arched back and pressed against Ric with his lips and fingers on her as they both rode him. His fingers tightened in hers and she felt his cock jerk inside her – he was hanging on by his fingernails.   
“Just a little longer, I’m so close. So- _ah!_ ” Ric’s talented fingers took one final swipe over her clit and she almost blacked out from the avalanche of sensation. From there on, it was like dominos – Damon was holding out for her, and there was almost as much relief as ecstasy present in his cry as he released into her. Ric, having come not long before, took a few more thrusts into Damon’s limp, overwrought body before she felt him seize against her. It was the most intense experience, made sweeter by the way Damon surged up to claim her lips almost the instant they were done.

Disentangling their limbs, the three of them kissed and touched lazily for a while before Damon said something about leaving Ric to his wet patch and half-carrying her back to their room down the hall. Bonnie felt a bone deep, satisfied fatigue that meant the necessary shower was something that didn’t bear thinking about. Resolving to wash off the evidence of their passion in the morning, she settled for using the bathroom before collapsing in Damon’s equally sweaty arms, and letting sleep take them both.

\---

The rest of their long weekend passed by in a haze of good company, great wine, and even better sex. Seriously, Bonnie could not overstate the sex - The three of them were so relaxed and natural together, it felt like they had been doing this for years, and yet every sensation and experience was so new. During the day, the two of them conspired to distract Ric from his work. Damon had messaged him saying ‘ _all work and no play makes Ric a dull boy’_ along with a couple of provocative photos of both of them, and he had dropped everything to join them. Despite being initially pissed at being pulled away from his laptop, Damon dropping to his knees and sucking him off while Bonnie had fingered him quickly had him forgetting his other obligations. That night, Bonnie got her wish, and they had started out an intensely pleasurable evening with Damon slowly fucking her into insanity while Ric fucked her mouth. When Bonnie’s first orgasm racked through her, her moans around Ric’s shaft prompted his release down her throat, and Damon followed along after, but not after making her come a second time. After a short break of making out and lazy touching, Damon had fucked Ric while he had eaten her out, and the sight of him licking up the mixture of Damon’s come and her slick from her slit while Damon pumped into him from behind was probably the filthiest thing she had ever seen. She hadn’t actually seen Damon top Ric before, and while he was definitely intoxicating to watch while being fucked, there was a familiar power to the way he moved when he was on top that made her as an observer feel it so much more. When they laid satiated, Damon had responded to Ric’s reluctant attempt to return to his own room with “ _don’t be fucking ridiculous’_ , and they found he fit remarkably well into their regular spooning arrangements. The next morning brought with it a reluctant return to the real world, and they’d had one last episode of lazy morning sex before packing up the car and bidding a reluctant goodbye, with a promise that they’d do it again.

"Good weekend?" Damon asked as the Camaro pulled out of the driveway.  
"Mmm. I wasn't being polite when I said we should do it again sometime." Damon huffed a laugh. "What?"  
"Nothing. Just thinking about how the you I first met would've been horrified if she knew how naughty you've become. I've definitely been a bad influence."  
Bonnie smiled. "I think she would be secretly thrilled by it." Damon quirked an eyebrow in a non-verbal _'Oh c'mon, really?’._ She gave him a playful nudge. "It's true. I was kind of uptight, but deep down I always had a wild side. You just helped me realise it."  
"Deep, deep, deep, _deep_ down. Under all the layers of judgement, and repression, and--hey! No assaulting the driver!" Bonnie giggled and pulled her hand back from where she'd poked him in the ribs. Damon let in a deep sigh. "I'd better check in on the club on the way home, given Enzo's propensity to set fire to my stuff."  
"The club will be fine. I'm more worried about Caroline and Klaus' blind date yesterday."  
"Shit, I forgot about that. Ten bucks on Klaus scaring her off before the check arrived."  
"You're on. My money's on Caroline gushing about 50 Shades and sending him running for the hills."  
Damon's lip pulled up into a half smile.  
"Maybe they're the next us. I can see the synopsis now: _Annoyingly peppy blonde with a hatred of sex workers meets a scary Dom with a heart of gold, and she learns to see the man behind the shibari and spreader bars._ Freakin' best seller right there. And if not them, my brother and Elena are the backup."  
"You're a hopeless romantic, you know that right?"  
Damon's eyes flitted from the road to her for a second, taking one hand off the wheel to take her hand and run a thumb over the engagement ring on her finger, bringing it to his lips to lay a kiss over it and the knuckles beneath.  
"Yeah, well maybe you helped me realise some stuff too."

As the Camaro meandered it's way back to Virginia, the two bickering incessantly over everything - from Damon's insistence on classic rock stations, to where to stop for dinner, to his disapproval of her feet up on the dash - Bonnie couldn't help but feel this is exactly how love should be: Neither person having to compromise or apologise for who they are, but being made stronger by their differences, challenging one another. She had taught him that love wasn't something to run away from, that sometimes risks were worth the reward, and that perfection isn't everything. He had taught her to enter into things with an open mind and an open heart, that it was okay to be selfish sometimes, and to colour outside the lines (with every pencil in the box). With two businesses to run, a wedding to plan, friends starting to date, and a world of new delights to explore together, their story was just beginning, and Bonnie couldn't keep the smile off her face as she contemplated what else life might have in store for them.


End file.
